


Hamilton Character Imagines

by semperpugnandi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hamilton Imagines, Hamilton Modern AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperpugnandi/pseuds/semperpugnandi
Summary: A collection of one shot (and sometimes two shot) imagines written for my lovely followers on Tumblr.





	1. War and Peace: Alexander

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Could you do a alex x reader where alex finds out they’re super ticklish and he begins a tickle fight??
> 
> Alexander x Female Reader

“The point is, Miss Hodge is not qualified to teach us physics!”

You rolled your eyes at Alex’s declaration. “Shut up, Al, and eat your peas.” Though everyone at your table admittedly agreed your physics teacher was the worst thing to happen to this school, this was the fourth time this week you had heard Alex ranting about it to the entire cafeteria from your lunch table. And it was Wednesday.

Still standing at his spot, he looked down begrudgingly at the food on his plate. “And this food is an abomination. Can this school hire anyone decent?” Your entire table groaned, knowing a rant about the school food was coming. You heard “Thanks Y/N” being grumbled from Angelica on your left.

As Alex took a deep breath to continue on with his probably written out and memorized speech on the different budgets the school could be using to deliver more acceptable food, you threw your fork down, attracting the attention of everyone at the table, including Alex.

“Alex, it’s been a really long and shitty week, and I understand everything at this school sucks, but could you just cool it for two seconds and eat your damn food?”

Everyone stared at you. Your eyes met Alex’s, which were wide in shock. His mouth hung half open, as if you interrupted the essay that was about to pour out. You grew uncomfortable under the stares, and quickly bent your head down and picked your fork back up to play with your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the standing figure sit down and pick up his fork to eat. You thought you heard him mumble a sincere “Sorry”. You sighed. You would have to apologize for that later.

The rest of the lunch period went by rather quietly and uncomfortably. Only a few of your friends were brave enough to start small talk, but all of it died pretty quickly. It was like you could read their minds: you had never yelled at Alex before. Never even been angry with him.

You weren’t angry at him the time he ditched you at prom to hang out with Maria and her friends. You weren’t angry at him when he starting dating Eliza. You weren’t even angry at him for still not asking you out. A little disappointed. But never angry. Alex was who Alex was.

You could feel the sideways glances he was shooting towards you, but you refused to meet any of them. You just forced the food down your throat and got up from the table as fast as you could.

As you were depositing your tray into the dishroom, you turned and practically ran into Alex. “Hey,” he said, almost out of breath, as if he had ran after you. He flashed you his signature smile, but you could tell there was still concern behind his eyes. “Do you want to skip next period and just go for a walk? You seem stressed.”

You were about to protest because both of you were model students and couldn’t just be skipping class on a whim, but today felt like the exception. You just nodded softly, and he took a step back to let you out of the dishroom first.

On your way to the doors out of the school, you happened to pass by your sister, which caused you to suppress a groan. At all costs, you tried to avoid taking Alex anywhere near your sister.

“Tory!” Alex called out, delighted by his luck. You couldn’t help but notice your sister’s face brightened as well. Bastards. “What do you have for me today?” Alex inquired eagerly.

Tory gave him a contemplative look and a smirk towards you before she finally said, “She’s ticklish.” You groaned.

Alex looked like he had just won the lottery.

A few years ago, when you and Alex officially became best friends, he struck a deal with your sister: every time they see each other, she tells him a fact about you. In exchange, Alex brings her and her drunk friends to Taco Bell any Saturday night they want. (The deal didn’t start off with her and her friends being drunk, but anymore, that’s what it ended up being, Alex had told you once.)

As soon as you were outside, you took a deep breath of fresh air and shuddered. Alex’s face turned from its smirk to suddenly becoming serious. “Y/N, do you want to talk about… anything?”

You sighed. “Like what?”

“Like… how you almost ripped my head off in there?” he asked cautiously.

You scoffed and shook your head. “I barely even raised my voice. Don’t be so dramatic.”

You could tell he could tell you were trying to change the focus of the topic, but he let it go for the time being. “You didn’t need to raise your voice. That made it scarier,” he said teasingly. You gave a small smile at the remark, but it quickly faded away.

“Y/N… I-I didn’t know my rants made you so upset. You should have told me. I would’ve have stopped,” he pleaded with you. You gave out a little laugh at the thought of Alex trying to hold his tongue on any rant.

“Your rants don’t make me upset, Alex. Don’t take what happened in there personally,” you finally said softly. You both walked a few steps in silence before he responded.

“Do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you then?” You knew he phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t a question.

You remained silent for a while, contemplating your response. “I didn’t get in,” you finally said softly. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What d-”

“Harvard,” you cut him off, your breath shaky. “I didn’t get in.” You stopped walking when you realized he had stopped a couple steps ago.

You turned around to face him, your eyes searching his. He just stared at you.

“How long have you known?” he finally asked.

You shrugged. “Couple days.”

“A couple days? Y/N, you should have told me. You should have come to me. I would have, I don’t-don’t know what I would have done, but I would have been there for you and not been ranting like some asshole,” he stated in disbelief, beginning to ramble. Quickly he closed the distance between you and wrapped you in a warm hug. It was the first time since you received your rejection letter you allowed yourself to cry.

“You know what,” he said, pulling back with his hands gripping your shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Fuck them. You’ve already got your acceptance to Columbia, and we’ll take over the whole damn school, okay?” He bent down so he was eye level with you and brought his hands up to wipe away your tears. You nodded gingerly. “You’re going to be so damn successful no matter where you go,” he said with such vigor. “I know Harvard was your dream, but Columbia’s still so amazing.”

You gave him a feeble smile, mostly so he would stop talking. His eyes, however, lit up when they saw the small upturn of the corners of your lips. Dread filled you when he started forming a suspicious smirk.

“That’s not quite enough smiling I like to see from you,” he said seriously. Your eyebrows furrowed, but then you felt his hands reach to your side.

“No!” you yelped, but it was too late. As he began tickling your sides, your face automatically broke out into a brilliant gleam as the giggles took over. It was hard to manage breathing and laughing, but somehow you found the time between gasps to strangle out “I… Hate… You.”

When he finally stopped, your sides hurt and you struggled to catch your breath, but you couldn’t quite wipe the smile from your face. Alex beamed proudly down at you as he observed the leftover smile from his antics. You looked gratefully into his eyes, but he seemed not to notice, for he was studying you intently as if he were about to say something. You swallowed thickly.

But instead of saying anything, he shook the look out of his eyes, and motioned to lead you back to the school.

For the next couple weeks, anytime he saw you looking slightly upset, he would come up to you without warning and start the tickling. You tried your hardest to find any weakness in his front, but he but he kept insisting “It’s useless. I’m not ticklish.”

Your entire group began referring to this as a “The War”. But mostly, it was just everyone against Alex. The one day Alex sat down at the table looking slightly peeved and disheveled. You all stared at him curiously until he turned his focus to Hercules.

“I swear to god, if you ever try to tickle my ass again, I will kick yours.” The entire table erupted in laughter, and Laf gave Herc a high five. You laughed especially hard, finally starting to relax back into your life. The rejection letter still stung, but it was stuff like this war that reminded you things like good friends were far more important.

Alex eventually joined in the laughter with a playful smile, but it didn’t go unnoticed by you that his eyes never left you as you laughed. You gave him a quizzical look through your smile, and he averted his eyes immediately from yours, shaking his head.

Alex made plans with you the following Saturday to just hang out at your house while waiting for the inevitable call from your sister to come pick her and her friends up. The War had settled down, as you barely ever looked sad these days, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for not having to be constantly paranoid of being viciously attacked in the hallways.

You stood in your basement trying to set up the tv for whichever movie the two of you decided to watch, when you felt an all too familiar feeling wash over you. Two hands dug into your sides, and your laughs caused you to cease breathing. While your body was all but flailing, you tried you best to control your arms enough to elbow the figure behind you. None of your attempts were successful.

As soon as he was done, you whipped around and shoved Alex playfully. It appeared he was laughing as hard as you.

“What the hell?” you asked when you regained your breath, still beaming. “Did I look sad?”

He met your eyes glowing. “No,” he answered simply. “You just didn’t look happy enough.” As he said the last words, his voice softened to a mellow murmur, and you felt a small amount of heat rise to your cheeks.

Somehow, you managed to roll your eyes through your heart flutter and quickly raised your hands to his sides trying to get the same effect out of him. He gave a small chuckle at your unsuccessful attempt.

“You have to be ticklish somewhere,” you huffed. Your hands moved their way up to his armpits to try again.

Throughout your life you have learned that when you become intently focused on a goal, everything else in your surroundings blur out. Which is why when you were focused on finding Alex’s ticklish spot, you didn’t notice his face gravitating towards yours until your lips made contact.

Your entire body froze as you inhaled a sharp breath. You thought you would feel lightheaded from how fast your heart was beating, and you closed your eyes because everything seemed to start blurring together.

When you finally regained control of your bodily functions, your hands quickly slipped behind his back. With your arms wrapped tightly around him, you pulled him closer until your bodies were flush with each other. You felt his hands messily run themselves through your hair, and you fought the urge to shiver.

His lips burned yours with desire you could tell had been building up for a while. You couldn’t stop the small smile from settling on top your face as he broke apart from you and lightly place his lips on your forehead.

When you finally both pulled away enough to see each other’s faces, he gave you a mischievous grin.

“My lips are ticklish,” he said, so convinced in his suave, you started doubling over in laughter. He cringed realizing what he said, and began trying to recover, but there was no recovery to be had at a line that terrible.

“Can we just forget I said it?” he asked desperately, worriedly observing the tears of laughter emitting themselves from your eyes.

When you managed to conjure up enough breath to breathe, you shook your head. “You just said ‘My lips are ticklish’ after our first kiss, and honestly you’re lucky I haven’t already texted Angelica about it.” He let out a low groan as the heat rose quickly to his face. You unashamedly admitted to yourself that you enjoyed making him blush.

Your upper hand over him didn’t last for long, however, for soon his hands were once again at your sides mercilessly tickling you. You wrapped your arms around him and desperately clung to him to try and keep control of your body.

“Okay! Okay! I surrender!” you shouted in pain. When he stopped, you took stock in how amazing his body heat felt against you. With a smirk you looked up at him and sincerely said, “I won’t text Angelica.” He seemed to visibly relax and you let go of him to quickly snatch your phone.

He warily watched you for a few moments before saying “You’re texting Herc aren’t you.”

“You betcha,” you responded with glee, and he let out an exaggerated groan and flopped onto your couch. You flashed him a smile and felt your heart swell up as he smiled back at you with wide eyes. The past couple weeks ran through your mind quickly: the rejection, the war. And for the first time in a while, you felt a calm settle over you.

Sometimes you needed a little conflict to bring a peace as satisfying as this.


	2. These Past Five Years: Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: A really cute fluffy Burr fic where he proposes?
> 
> Aaron x Female Reader

“Do you know where he’s taking you?”

You sighed at the question, knowing no matter what you answered, it would be wrong.

“No, Dad, I don’t know where he’s taking me tonight,” you said calmly, voice straining through the phone. You heard his indignant scoff on the other end and gritted your teeth, praying he wouldn’t say what you knew he was going to say next.

Your mother’s voice rang out in the distance on the other end of the line. Nervously, you looked at the clock, you had exactly three minutes before Aaron came (exactly on time, as always), and you still had to fix your hair. But of course, your father had other plans for that time. You groaned as he began speaking.

“Now, Y/N, I know you love this man, but you’ve been dating for five years, and at some point you have to ask him if he’s ever going to ask you to marry him,” he began, reciting the same speech he’d been reciting to you for almost two years now.

“Dad,” you cut him off short, allowing the clear annoyance to show in your voice. “I get it. You think we should get married. You think we should move in, have kids together, and grow old sitting on the front porch. But I don’t need all that right now. Aaron’s waiting, and I’m not going to push him because that’s who he is. I’m happy, okay? Did you really just call me to give me this lecture again?”

Your father was silent for a moment. “Do you want to marry him?”

The question caught you off guard. “Of-of course I do, Dad. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Again, your father was silent before he finally said, “Then have a good night on your date.” The phone clicked and you pulled it from your ear and stared at it confused. Your father had never acted like that before when talking about Aaron.

Your parents liked your boyfriend well enough. They liked how well he treated you and how in love you were. Their problem with him was they didn’t understand him. Your parents got engaged after dating for nine months and had been happily married ever since. Five years seemed too long for them to comprehend.

Sighing you threw the phone down as you heard a small knock on the door. You grimaced, hating when you had to make Aaron wait on you, though he was always more than happy to.

Your feet quickly moved to the door where you opened it quickly and smiled brightly at Aaron. His soft smile met yours, and you felt your heart melting once again.

“I’m so sorry, but my parents called and I still need to do my hair.” He gave you an understanding smile and walked into your apartment, shutting the door behind him as you ran to the bathroom to find a brush.

You noticed him sit down on your couch. And after a few silent moments, he called out from the other room, “What did your parents call about?”

You gave a little laugh. “Honestly? I don’t know. They’re still freaking out about how two people could be together for five years and not get hitched.” He also gave a chuckle to that, but when you glanced over at him, his laugh seemed strained on his face.

Choosing not to dwell on it, you swooped your hair up into a ponytail and exited the bathroom. With an exaggerated huff, you smiled at him and said, “I’m ready.” He hopped off the couch and you both exited your apartment and got in his car.

You both kept the conversation light on the way to his mystery location, catching up on your days and discussing your upcoming weeks.

“I just am tired of testing their water levels,” you complained. “I’ve already done it four times. It’s polluted. I shouldn’t have to keep telling them. It’s just a waste of my time.”

Though Aaron never took a particular interest in environmental studies before he met you, but after five years, he knew what it was all about, and how important it was.

“Not everyone wants to save the world, but you’ve got to keep fighting,” he told you solemnly. With a grateful smile, you looked over at him, and his eyes met yours.

“Thanks, Aaron,” you said quietly. After a few moments of silence, you started up the conversation again with asking about his upcoming trial.

Eventually forty-five minutes passed, and you noticed you were driving by your college alma mater. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but your smile was one of delight. You had loved your years here.

Your confusion grew, however, as Aaron slowed the car and pulled into the parking lot of a tiny vintage bookstore across the street. Humming to what was last being played on the radio, he shut off and exited the car. Still confused you followed, but stood by the passenger side door silently for a couple moments, staring at Aaron.

When he was halfway to the entrance of the store, he noticed you weren’t by his side and stopped to look at you quizzically.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry and confusion clouding his face.

“I just.” You shook your head and smiled at him. “This is where we met.”

He laughed, confused. “It is.”

Walking up beside him, you looked at him, clearly still flustered. “You brought me to where we met?”

Again, he didn’t know how to respond, so he asked, “I did. Is that okay?”

This time you laughed with a brilliant smile. “Of course! I just–didn’t expect it, that’s all.” A relieved smile crossed his face, and you were glad you didn’t have to elaborate. Because the thought running through your head was people usually brought their significant other to the place they met when they wanted to pro-

You shook your head as you grabbed Aaron’s hand and entered the shop, pushing the thought from your mind. It would do you no good to get your hopes up and spoil such a special evening Aaron had clearly planned out.

The two of you spent almost an hour in the shop, combing through books. You limited each other to two books a piece, as you used to in college: one for yourself, and one for the other. You silently laughed at the origin of this tradition: the argument you both had with what was then a stranger on which classic author was better. You insisted on Thomas Hardy, but he refused to let Leo Tolstoy go. That day you left with Anna Karenina, and he left with Far From the Madding Crowd; you both left with a book of your own choosing and each other’s numbers.

As you left the store, you happily hugged your two books to your body and headed towards the car. Aaron’s voice called out behind you.

“Actually, I was hoping we could just drop the books in the car and walk down to the 15th Avenue Cafe for dinner?”

A lump formed in your throat and you nodded with a smile, not trusting your voice. The 15th Avenue Cafe was where you went on your first official date, three years after you met and became best friends. You tried pushing the thought away, but this time it wouldn’t leave your head as easily.

Maybe this really was it.

You both dropped your books in the car, and he wrapped a comforting arm around you as you made your way down the street to the cafe. Being reminded by the campus across the street, you both began reminiscing on your memories together. Eventually, you began discussing the road to the two of you dating.

“Oh please,” you defended yourself, giggling, “I sent you every sign besides grabbing your face and telling you I liked you.”

He chuckled. “Well, all I kept hearing was I was your best friend and I couldn’t ruin that.” You rolled your eyes with a smirk, remembering how long it took him to explain he wanted to take you to dinner, not go with you to dinner (as you did almost every day) when he finally got the courage to ask you out.

You sat at your usual table and ordered your usual food. The cafe had a small bustle of college students in it, but as it usually was even five years ago, the joint was calm and peaceful.

“You know, I was so nervous on our first date,” Aaron chuckled at himself while you were waiting for your food. You smiled softly: you had known that. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I got here an hour early that night. I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone waiting for me, because I know you get anxious in social situations like that.”

You looked at him stunned. There wasn’t a lot you didn’t know about Aaron or your relationship with him. And while this may have seemed insignificant to anyone else, he was right: if you would have had to sit alone that night, already high on nerves of having your first date with the boy you’d liked for three years, you would have likely panicked.

And even then, he knew and cared about you enough to prevent that.

Reliving that memory and how terrified you were you would get there before him, or he wouldn’t come, or he would get there and change his mind, the wave of relief you felt when you saw him through the cafe window walking up took on a whole new meaning. That relief meant so much more now.

“Aaron, I,” you tried to form the words. Eventually, with tears forming in your eyes and a smile, you finished. “I love you.”

His smile warmed your heart. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Your food was served and you both ate and talked animatedly. When you both finished, you ordered a slice of the cheesecake to share. And as he always did, Aaron let you eat the entirety of the edge with the crust.

As you left the cafe, he gently slipped his hand into yours and led you in the opposite direction of the car. “I have one more stop planned,” he whispered. Your cheeks warmed, and you let him lead you, though he didn’t elaborate more.

After ten minutes of walking, you had your answer.

It was your spot. The place you both met in between classes on crazy days to just take a breather. The place you went on lazy Sunday afternoons to just read together. The place you went on Friday nights when neither of you felt like going to a party. You would just curl up together in the grass by the serenity pond in the forgotten garden of your campus and simply be together.

This was the place you both admitted you loved each other for the first time.

By this time, your heart was racing and your body felt hot all over. This was it. He was going to ask you to marry him in your spot. Tears began building up behind your eyes. You had been afraid to admit this for the past five years, but you desperately wanted to be Aaron’s wife and him be your husband. Unofficially, you knew you already were, but officially, you wanted to be bonded together for the rest of your lives.

He sat down on the grass, and you curled up beside him casually. Your fingers were still intertwined and you relaxed into the rhythm of his breathing. You talked of nothing and everything. You pointed out the limited knowledge of constellations you had; he recited some of his favorite verses from the poems he could remember.

When it got close to ten o'clock, you both stood with calm expressions. You tried not to, but you knew you looked at him expectantly. He got down on one knee, and your breath caught. You began to feel dizzy and like you were going to throw up.

But he merely began to tie his shoe.

When he stood back up, his eyes met your dazed face with confusion. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Snapping back to reality, you tried not to let your disappointment swallow you whole. “Yeah,” you said unconvincingly. “It’s just… this date was perfect.” He smiled and gently pressed his lips to yours, and you relished in their soft warmth.

“I know,” he said softly. “Are you ready to leave? Or would you like to stay in the past a little longer?”

There was nothing demeaning or cynical of the question. There were no hidden meanings besides comfort and understanding. You shook your head.

“No, I’m okay,” you answered with a slight smile. He once again grabbed your hand and led you back to the car.

You were silent most of the ride home. And you spent most of that time trying to get your feelings in check. You didn’t know why you were so disappointed this time. You had thought several times before Aaron would propose to you and he didn’t. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

But you knew it was.

You tried to just blame it on your father psyching you out right beforehand, but you knew it wasn’t that. He gave you the perfect date. You reminisced together on your entire relationship the whole night. If anyone were to ever propose, it would have been on a night like this.

You let out a soft sigh, and you noticed Aaron give you a side glance. You somehow managed to keep a neutral face under his scrutiny, though you couldn’t wait to just crawl in your bed and wake up the next morning unperturbed by tonight’s situation.

You just had to keep telling yourself Aaron was Aaron, and he would ask when he was ready. Tonight didn’t change anything. You were still in the same position you were in this morning. If anything, this perfect date should make you more willing to wait for the amazing man you had.

A lump still resided in your throat when he pulled up to your apartment. As always, he shut his car off and got out to visit with you for a little bit. You forced a nonchalant expression on your face as you walked up the steps to your door. Your hands fumbled with the key a bit more than usual, but if Aaron noticed, he didn’t say anything.

You walked straight away to your coffee table to set down your bag. When you got halfway there, Aaron’s voice rang out behind you.

“You’re upset with me. I can tell,” he said solemnly.

You turned around quickly to face him with panicked eyes. Making your way over to him and kissing him tenderly, you looked into his eyes with all the love you possessed. “Of course I’m not upset with you, Aaron. Why would I be upset with you?”

He contemplated your expression for a few moments before he responded. “Because I… I think you wanted me to do this.”

This time when he got down on one knee, your mind didn’t register it. You couldn’t process what was happening, but his eyes never left yours. Tears began streaming down your cheeks before you even knew why.

“Y/N, these last five years have been the best of my life,” he began. The realization finally clicked in your head of what was really happening. Your hands flew to your mouth as tears began increasing, and your body began shaking. Slowly, Aaron pulled a small black box from his coat pocket. “I don’t regret any decision or any pain in my life because I know it all led to you. And if you’re willing, I can’t promise I won’t make any more bad decisions or there won’t be any more pain, but I can promise I will gladly endure it all if you are by my side.” Your breath caught as he opened the little box to reveal a garnet ring with a gold band. “And I want you to be by my side as my wife. So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

You stared at him silently, the tears still streaming. Your eyes flicked to the ring with disbelief. You mentioned to him in passing almost three years ago you wanted garnet instead of diamond. How did you fall in love with someone so unbelievable?

When your eyes flicked back up to Aaron’s, you realized his were filled with worry that you hadn’t yet answered. Dropping to your knees with him and beginning to sob, you wrapped your arms around him tightly. He reciprocated hesitantly, still nervous about your lack of response.

“I-I called your parents yesterday and asked for permission,” he explained. “If that helps any, I just wanted to-”

“Shut up,” you commanded, pulling back from the hug and smashing your lips into his. In this moment, they felt like fire against yours, and you held his body as close to yours as possible.

When you pulled back, you connected your forehead to his, and he looked expectantly at you.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you whispered.

With a giant relieved smile, he pulled you in for another kiss and slipped the ring on your finger.

And with a soft smile, you let yourself melt into the man you could finally call your fiance.


	3. Our Lives are Told in Moments: Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Can I request a Aaron Burr x reader where Aaron thinks about all his memories with baby Theodosia and the reader before dueling Alexander
> 
> Aaron x Female Reader

He told you you were the one thing running through his mind.

 

_  
“Excuse me, miss, but you look familiar.”_

_You turned and looked solemnly at the man who just interrupted your conversation. You felt your best friend’s presence abandon your side as you silently stared at the man to continue, but eventually it dawned on you he wasn’t planning on speaking further._

_“I hope you have something more to say to me, if you were to interrupt my conversation,” you commented politely with an edge. In a normal circumstance, you often had patience with people who came up to you out of the blue, but seeing you were at a ball, your mind was always unsettled. You hated dancing, and you hated marketing yourself out to make connections for yourself and your father. Every man that came up to you was another man to add to your list._

_You grimaced, however, seeing this man’s flustered reaction to your words. Your father would accuse you of sabotage when you got home if heard of this. But before you could correct yourself, the man began stumbling over his words._

_“I apologize, miss. I was hoping if I came up and talked to you, you would recognize me, and I would stop having to stare across the room at you, trying to figure out who you are. But this was obviously a mistake and I’ll just leave you now.” The man, clearly shaken up from the encounter, gave a small bow and began walking away._

_“Wait!” you called after him, against your better judgement. You weren’t sure why you were calling back the first man who had the common courtesy to leave you alone. Maybe it was because he did have common courtesy. Or maybe it was because he didn’t come over to ask you for a dance. Or maybe it was because he actually did seem familiar._

_He turned back around, and expressionless look upon his face, as if he didn’t want too eager or too confused. “You do seem familiar,” you admitted regretfully. His eyes lit up, and he gave you a soft smile. You purposefully ignored the warm feeling building up in your stomach. “Do you go to the bookstore on Second from time to time?”_

_He didn’t. But that was okay. Your question sparked more questions into each other’s favorite literature and authors, which subsequently led to each other’s education and beliefs. And before you knew it you had talked to the man for the entirety of the ball and avoided a dance the entire evening._

_At the end of the night, as he kissed your hand goodbye, you quickly seized his hand before he could walk away. His eyes relayed his confusion to you._

_“Sir, I’ve talked to you this whole evening and never once inquired your name.”_

_A small smile dawned his lips as he too came to this realization. “Aaron Burr,” he told you softly._

_“Y/N L/N,” you responded with a smile in your voice. And just like that, the handsome Aaron Burr took his leave and your heart._

_You both never figured out why you found each other familiar.  
_

 

“Aaron,” your voice trailed off, as the tears began streaming down your face as well. His figure was curled up on the floor sobbing. You tried to hold him, but you could do nothing but merely place your arms around him and rest your head on his back.

His hand softly grabbed yours. “I couldn’t-couldn’t let him take me away from you.

At this, you too began sobbing at the thought of losing him–losing your Aaron. The man that has held you up and loved you for the past twenty-five years. The man that had become your entire life. He was right. You didn’t think you could lose him. Just like how you knew if he lost you, it would shatter him beyond repair.

But then the one person you didn’t want to think about right now entered your mind.

Eliza.

Her grief would haunt you for the rest of your life.

You tightly grabbed the back of Aaron’s blouse and tried not to scream as you sobbed. How had the world become so dark?

 

_  
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”_

_You rolled your eyes and hurriedly ran to your soon to be husband and held him tightly in a hug. “Shut up, Aaron. I just… needed to see you.”_

_You felt his strong arms wrap around to calmly before pulling away. His deep eyes looked into yours with concern. “Y/N, is everything okay?”_

_You painted a quick smile on your face. “Of course. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”_

_His concern grew deeper and you grimaced. “About what?”_

_“Us. Well, me. Mostly.” You avoided his eyes. “What if I’ve just been lying to you and me this whole time?” you inquired worriedly, biting your lip._

_Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”_

_You broke apart from him and turned your back, worked up. “I mean, ever since I was a little girl I never wanted to be married or be a wife. I wanted to work and write and continue my education. And if I do all of that, how can I possibly be a good wife as well? My mother takes care of a whole household and seven children, I don’t–I don’t think I can do that Aaron.” By the end of your speech, you sounded defeated, and you tried to hold back the tears building in your eyes._

_A small chuckle came from behind you, and you turned to look at Aaron in disbelief and indignation. He thought this was funny?_

_“Y/N,” he said seriously with a brilliant smile, walking up to you and gripping your shoulders under your white material. “I don’t want you to be my wife because you will take care of a household and seven kids. I want you to be my wife because you are you. And you work. And you’re smarter than me. And I know you will be there for me always, every day, just as I will be for you.”_

_As he spoke, you allowed a few tears to streak down your cheeks. When he finished, you began laughing and crying at the same time as you tightly wrapped the love of your life in a hug._

_When you pulled back, both of you were now crying and laughing. “We’re getting married,” you stated in disbelief. He smiled the smile that always made your knees weak and leaned in close to you._

_“Not if you don’t go back to the back of church, where you’re supposed to be,” he whispered. You laughed and wiped the tears from your face. As you gathered your white gown in your arms so you could quickly run around the church again, you placed a fleeting kiss on your soon-to-be husband’s lips.  
_

 

The two of you stayed frozen solid and attached in the living room for several hours. Eventually, he turned to face you.

“I should tell Theodosia. I-I should tell her-”

You quieted him and held him as he once again crumpled into sobs, placing his head into your neck. You tried to stay resolved in his time of need, rubbing his back methodically. But you were just trying to soothe yourself as well. Life would never be the same after this day.

If only he had told you what was happening. He told you everything else about himself, why didn’t he tell you he was going to duel Alexan-

You shook your tears from your eyes. These thoughts didn’t help now.

You looked back down at the broken man that resembled your husband. “Aaron,” you said softly. “Theodosia is going to hear about it and come. I expect her to be here tomorrow.” Maybe your daughter could help calm him. She always seemed to have the right words, outsmarting both you and Aaron.

He was silent for a minute before you heard, “I thought of her too. About how I couldn’t let her lose either one of us. I-I-”

You rested your head on his shoulder and tried to focus on your one child instead of Alexander’s several.

Theodosia always was the light of your life.

 

_  
“Love, you did it.”_

_Aaron’s voice was the first soothing thing in hours. As you laid in blood and sweat and tears, you gratefully gripped his hand tightly. The sound of his voice was almost covered up by the sound of tiny screams at the other end of the room._

_A baby girl. Your daughter._

_As the midwife brought her back over to you, you eagerly thrust out your arms to hold her, and Aaron gently knelt beside you. She was lightly place in your arms; you gasped as you looked upon her perfect little face for the first time. She was everything you expected, and more. You felt the tears begin to stream down your face and chuckled when you saw Aaron crying as well._

_“What should we name her?” you finally asked after several moments of silence._

_He stared at the tiny figure thoughtfully before whispering “Theodosia”._

_A small smile crossed your lips, as your eyes met his. “ ‘A supreme gift from God’,” you said in unison. And she indeed felt like a supreme gift from God himself._

_After hours of holding and talking to the most beautiful human being in the entire world, you began to feel your eyes droop, and Aaron quietly lifted Theodosia out of your arms. You whimpered as he did so, but you felt his lips lightly brush your forehead as he commanded you to rest. Reluctantly, you fell back into your pillow and allowed sleep to take ahold of you._

_It was pitch dark in the room when you woke up. You heard a voice speaking softly in the corner but it took a few moments for your brain to begin functioning properly before you could make out the words._

_“Theodosia, what to say to you?”_

_You grinned sleepily at the sound of Aaron’s voice speaking unsurely to your daughter. As if he didn’t wish to make too many promises he couldn’t keep; as if she would hold him accountable for what he was about to say. He had always been practical like that: words always held such a greater weight to him than to most._

_“You have my eyes; you have your mother’s grace. When you came into this world, you cried… and it broke my heart.” You heard his muffled tears and found yourself fighting between going to him or staying and listening. He took a deep, resolved breath and continued._

_“We’re dedicating every day to you. Domestic life, was never quite our style… Oh, Theodosia, when you smile, you knock me down; I fall apart. And I thought I was so smart,” he ended, his tone heartbreakingly pure. How were you so lucky to birth a child with such a man?_

_“Aaron, I love you,” you said in a soft tone through the pitch black room. You heard his breath hitch, unaware you were awake and listening._

_But instead of responding, you saw the outline of his dark figure gently get up from his chair and glide to the bassinet at the end of the bed. When your newborn was secure in her bed, your husband joined you in yours._

_You curled up on his chest as his began softly humming and stroking your back. Right as you were about to drift off again into the darkness, his humming paused. And after a beat of silence, he said, “I love you too, Y/N.”_

_Your heart began to burn with joy and love, but the only response you gave was snuggling tighter into his body, holding on to him as tight as possible._

_You would never let anything ruin how perfect everything was right now.  
_

 

When darkness had encompassed what was once your perfect household, you dragged Aaron to the bedroom, so he wouldn’t end up sleeping on the hardwood floors. As soon as he hit the bed, he let his exhaustion take over and immediately fell asleep.

You observed him by the moonlight from across the room. Your gut twisted when you realized the only time you would ever see your husband as the peaceful and intelligent man you loved was now: while he lay sleeping, escaped from the cruel reality of the world.

With tears brimming in your eyes, you began to change into your nightgown. You and Eliza Hamilton had something in common now, you supposed.

You were both married to ghosts.

With a shuddering breath, you blew out the candle on your nightstand and gingerly climbed into bed next to Aaron. You studied the man who lay next to you–the face that was present at every one of all of life’s important moments.

Your lives had always been told in small moments.

But you knew now that you had to let all those moments go. Because now only one moment defined this household.

And it was the moment that left you a widow.


	4. Parlez-Vouz Français?: Lafayette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and John want to set you up with their friend from France. You're not so sure.
> 
> Lafayette x Female Reader

“He’s right there.”

You rolled your eyes as your best friend John Laurens pointed out the obvious. The man he was pointing to was simply no one of importance, as you hadn’t met him yet. But as you watched him carry on a jovial conversation with Alexander Hamilton, you couldn’t help but wonder who Marquis de Lafayette truly was.

He was the friend of two of your best friends. He had come from France. He was a soldier. But Alex and John alike seemed incapable of giving you more information than just that. So as you rolled your eyes the first time you laid sight on him, you tried your best to ignore the ever growing fluttering inside your stomach.

“I know he’s right there,” you said calmly, allowing only a hint of sarcasm through into the statement. “I can’t just go up and talk to him though.” Your fingers clenched the material of your dress tightly when you glance back Lafayette’s way. Why did your body insist on being so anxious because of a man you hadn’t even spoken to yet?

John stared at you incredulous. “Why can’t you just go up and say something to him? It’s not like you’re alone. Or that he’s a complete stranger.”

“To you,” you pointed out. “But to me, he is a stranger.” You sighed and shook your head with the slightest bit of laughter directed towards yourself. “What would I even say to him?”

“Hello is usually a pretty good starter,” John stated matter-of-factly, and confused at your refusal to approach him. He stared at you for a couple of seconds until he finally said, “You’re nervous.”

You scoffed at his accusation, forcing your fingers to unclench and your body to relax. “Am not.” You shook your head indignantly.

John allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. “You are!” He was practically giddy and you ended up disliking him in this situation even more. When he noticed the glare directed at him from your face, he quickly tried to recover. “I just never thought I would see the day where Y/N got nervous.” He smiled and shook his head, taking an even sip from his beer and then holding the stein out to you to offer you some. You shake your head, more in disgust of his comment than anything.

“I am most certainly not nervous to talk to man who I have never met and means nothing to me,” you stated straight faced, crossing your arms in front of your ribcage for emphasis.

John leaned in with his aloof grin until eventually his face was inches from yours. “Then go talk to him,” he all but dared you.

With a glare and a huff, you pivoted and purposefully bumped his shoulder with yours as you stalked away towards Alex and the man you had yet to meet. Alex, seeing your approach from the corner of his eye, placed a drink in front of seat across from him, motioning for you to join him and this man. You forced a bright smile on your face as you gracefully sat yourself at the place Alex moments ago reserved for you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Alex greeted you with a smile, mischievous as always.

While maintaining the positive appearance, you returned Alex’s greeting with a sigh, and then turned your focus to the other man sitting at the table. He stared at you curiously, obviously not aware of who you were. With a grit in your smile, you began to speak.

“Bonjour.” He gave you skeptical look that you took as his disbelief in your abilities to speak anything but one word in French. “Je m’appelle Y/N. Je vous ai entendu dire que vous veniez de France? Ma mère était française, mais elle a déménagé ici avant que je ne naisse. Je voudrais visiter, mais je ne connais personne là-bas. Excepté toi! Non pas que je veuille que vous me preniez avec vous! Ou que je ne veux pas que vous me preniez avec vous. Je suis en fait neutre sur un voyage en France avec vous. Et-“

You stopped digging yourself into a hole when you heard the laughter Alex was trying so hard to prevent from escaping his lips reached the air. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you quickly looked down at your clenched fists in your lap. With a sigh, you looked back up at the man sitting across from you who was still staring incomprehensibly.

Suddenly, an awful thought entered your mind. What if this wasn’t Lafayette? What if it was just some random attractive guy who spoke no French at all? You resisted the urge to groan and drop your head against the table with a bang. Instead, you tried to recover.

“I am so sorry!” you said to the man, suddenly even more embarrassed than before. “My friend John back there told me you were French.” As you said this, you gestured back at John, who was now standing right beside you and joining Alex in his laughter. You could not believe these two would pull something like this.

Through his laughter and the other man’s clear confusion, Alex managed to say, “Don’t worry, Y/N. I do speak French, and what you said was so eloquently put. How did you word it again? You are ‘neutral on a trip to France with him’?”

While your fists were white from your angry clench, your face filled with red heat and anger as your two friends once again erupted into uncontrollable laughter. The moment you had them alone again, they were going to regret this night.

With a deep breath, you tried to gently push yourself away from the table to make your escape, but your anger and utter embarrassment seemed increasingly harder to contain. Still, you managed to throw your legs across the other side of the bench and stand up. As you turned to leave, however, you heard a voice with a thick French accent come from behind you.

“Uh, excusez-moi, Mademoiselle Y/N?” You froze upon hearing the voice. “Je suis Français. Je ne suis juste pas habitué à en entendre ici dans les colonies.”

Slowly, with a hint of a smile dawning your lips, you turned back around to face who you were now convinced was surely Lafayette. He was standing too, as if he intended to physically run after you to stop you. And your smile widened just a bit when you saw his face too was consumed by a deep blush of embarrassment. When he noticed John and Alex still laughing at your misunderstanding, he shook his head with a slightly amused grin.

“S'il vous plaît acceptez mes excuses pour eux.”

“Don’t apologize for them,” you reply with contempt for your two friends, forgetting the man you were speaking to indeed spoke French. You quickly repeated your response in French for him, to which he gratefully nodded at.

After you stared at each other awkward standing at the table for a couple more moments and your friends seemed to get their laughter under control, Alex and John announced their departure for the bar. As they walked away, Lafayette motioned for you to join him at the table as he once again sat down. Taking a deep breath, you sat back down.

You knew John and Alex were watching you from the bar, but eventually you didn’t mind. The conversation with Lafayette just… flowed. He seemed funny, and charming, and not what you were expecting to meet. It turned out he also spoke a little English, and the conversation turned bilingual quickly, switching back and forth between the languages easily.

At one point, a playful glint entered his eye and you gave him a skeptical look. “So this trip to France?”

A groan escaped your throat as he let out a low chuckle. “Non non non,” you responded hiding your face in your hands. You brought your hands down onto the table in front of you, leaned forward, and looked him seriously in the eyes. “What are the chances no one ever mentions that again?”

This time a full on laugh heaved out of his chest. And after staring at him embarrassed for a little while, you eventually lowered your head onto the wooden table with a thud and began laughing along with him.

When you both settled down, he looked into your eyes still with the ghost of laughter on his face. “I will keep mentioning it because it is a trip I would like to take.”

This time when you felt the heat race to your face, it was almost a good feeling. Your smiles suddenly turned shy as the conversation seemed to cease and you sat looking at each other awhile longer. You broke your gaze first, with a smile and an observation of the pub, which was all but empty except Alex and John who were in deep conversation at the bar.

“Everyone’s gone,” you observed, still looking affectionately upon your two friends. When you flicked your eyes back to Lafayette, he was still gazing at you intently with a soft smile.

Finally he said, “I am glad to have met you, Mademoiselle Y/N.” He stood and walked around the table until he was right beside you holding out his hand to help you out of the seat. Gently, you took his hand and stood.

“And I am glad you are French.” The line was supposed to be a playful joke, but it came out as a whisper due to his close proximity to yourself.

“We will… meet again? Soon?” There was hope in his eyes as he waited for your answer.

“Oui. Bien sûr.”


	5. Hold Me Only Somedays: Lafayette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hey, I’m really sick today, like puking every few minutes sick, but I hate it when people try to take care of me. I was wondering if you could do one with Lafayette where the reader is sick, but doesn’t want to be taken care of. :^))) thanks darling
> 
> Lafayette x Female Reader

“Merde. How did time go so fast? My class starts in fifteen minutes.”

You laughed gently at the sound of Lafayette’s voice on the other end. He called this morning to make sure you had gotten your ticket for this week’s game settled, and like almost everything you did together, the conversation got carried away. You were never quite sure how the two of you kept finding things to talk about for hours every day, but the next day always came. And you always found something to discuss.

This morning, however, you weren’t as enthusiastic about your conversation as usual, and you could tell Laf could tell.

“Don’t let me make you late,” you said quietly with little strength, but with a small smile. “I would feel-”

Suddenly, you threw your phone down on your bed and ran to the bathroom as fast as your legs would carry you. It remained unclear how your stomach still produced anything you could throw up, and yet here you were. On your fourth trip to the bathroom this morning.

After you cleaned yourself up, you groaned at the empty pain in your stomach. But you pushed it aside, ignoring the cold sweat that broke out on your back and quickly returned to your bed. When you reached it, you curled up under the comforter and regained a normal breathing pattern before putting the phone back up to your ear. You doubted Lafayette was still on the line, but you never knew. Sometimes he talked so much, he didn’t notice your absence.

“Hey?” you whispered back into the phone. “You still there?”

You waited in anticipation for a beat of silence, before you heard him come back on the line.

“Of course I’m still here. Where were you?” his voice was filled with concern. And you knew if he found out you had the stomach flu, he would drop everything to come take care of you. But the thing was, you didn’t want that. Being sick was a private thing for you. Extreme discomfort accompanied anyone witnessing you at your weakest. Everything in you just wanted him to go to class and have a good day without worrying about you.

“Ana needed me quick. Sorry,” you replied shortly, hoping he wouldn’t question it any further.

He paused for a moment, and you thought for sure he was going to ask follow up questions. Lafayette was never satisfied if he thought anyone (most of all you) were unhappy. It was one of his qualities you loved about him most. Except when you were sick.

But to your utter surprise, he let it go.

“It’s okay,” he replied in a pleasant tone. “I have to get to class! I’ll see you after? We can do lunch, yes?”

You scrambled to find an excuse to get out of it. “I-um- I actually already have plans. With Carol.” You grimaced at the obvious lie. You hated this. “Sorry,” you tacked on as an afterthought. You held your breath anxiously, hoping he would take your explanation.

You could almost hear his sweet, understanding smile through the phone. “Amour, it is alright.” You sighed a breath of relief and grinned through the pain into the phone. “I really must go though. Je t'aime.”

“Love you, too,” you whispered with a small smile. Your stomach may have purged itself of everything, but it could never rid you of the butterflies Lafayette’s affection gave you.

When you hung up the phone, you threw it across your bed and heaved a sigh. While you didn’t regret lying, you didn’t exactly feel great about it either. But Laf would understand… if you ever let him find out.

You glanced at the clock and tried to suppress a groan. Eight o’ two. Your lecture started two minutes ago.

You rolled over to smother your face into your pillow and laid still for awhile, trying to control your breathing. In, out. Don’t think about the pain. In, out. Don’t think about the nausea. In, out. Don’t think about how many notes you’ll have to catch up on. In, out. Think of something pleasant.

Not to your surprise, the first thing that popped into your head was French Literature sophomore year, a class your friend Alex convinced you to take even though you had never taken an ounce of French. He had promised to help you translate when needed, but it turned out, you didn’t need his help for long.

The first day of class, Alex abandoned you to befriend the French international student in the class. To say you resented both Alex and the other student that class period would be putting it lightly.

“Hey, Y/N!” Alex called to you after class. “This is Lafayette. He’s from France; he can help you with the French stuff.”

You tried to bite back most of the venom in your mouth. “You were supposed to do that,” you stated, unimpressed. You were not going to screw over your GPA for a class Alex no longer wanted to help you with.

You noticed Lafayette give Alex an unsure glance as Alex narrowed his eyes at you. Your glare at them intensified as Alex walked up to you and put his mouth right up to your ear. You struggled to maintain a neutral face as he began to whisper.

“Lafayette is a soft spoken, intelligent gentleman who thinks you’re cute and wants to tutor you in French, and I for one think you should let him.”

Your face immediately flushed at his words and your eyes flicked to Lafayette. The heat burned your cheeks an even more brilliant shade of red when you noticed he too was blushing.

So he did think you were cute.

Observing your new expressions, Alex sported an annoying smirk and patted you on the back. “I’ll leave you two alone to set up a study time.” When you turned to look at Alex helplessly, never having to deal with a guy that was interested in you before, your eyes pleaded with him to stay. But you felt an edge of annoyance as his smirk widened into a shitty grin and gave you a wink, before practically skipping out the door.

You turned back to Lafayette slowly, eyeing him cautiously. He was still watching, seemingly in a bit of shock. Nervously, you cleared your throat, bringing his attention back to Earth, if only for a moment.

“Um,” you started off, anxious of where to go from there. “I… I’m free tonight?” You suggested it before realizing it was the first day of class and there wasn’t even anything to study yet. But you still hoped he would agree to meet with you. Maybe get a head start on some things.

The relief in his face was undeniable. “Yes. Yes, tonight.” He flashed you a brilliant cheesy smile that made your heart beat a bit irregularly. You swallowed thickly and found yourself unable to respond, you were so overwhelmed. Instead, you nodded nervously, and quickly turned to leave the room and find Alex, so you could beat him up and then hug him.

The memory made your current pain a bit more bearable, as the corners of your lips turned up slightly into the pillow. You sighed, and decided to keep trying the technique of good memories.

A loud knock from the front door, however, refused to let you. With a loud groan, you pushed yourself off the bed, and walked through the living room to the front door. Peering into the eye-hole, your blood froze.

What on Earth was Lafayette doing here?

You heaved a sigh and slowly opened the door, avoiding his eyes. Just because he was here didn’t necessarily mean he knew you were sick.

“You’re sick,” he stated simply, a hint of disappointment in his voice. You suppressed the urge to groan and still refused to meet his eyes. He sighed and pushed the door open further. “Your class starts before mine on Fridays. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” He waited awhile, and when you failed to break the silence, he softly pushed past you into your apartment. “Do you want chicken noodle or chicken and rice?” he called back as he made his way to the kitchen.

You followed him warily, noticing for the first time the two cans of soup in his hands. He must have stopped at the grocery store before he came over. You swallowed thickly, afraid of how he would react to your response.

He was making as much noise as he possibly could, you were convinced, to pull out a pan for the soup. “Neither.” He stopped in his tracks and your stomach twisted. Couldn’t he just go to class?

Concern filled his eyes as he, for the first time, took in your state. You honestly couldn’t imagine how pale and frail you looked. “Amour, I’m just trying to-” he started.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you cut him off patiently. You shifted uncomfortably as an unknown gleam entered his eyes. “I just- I don’t need it. Go to class.”

He stared at you, trying to judge the situation. You could tell he didn’t want to leave. “It’s just a stomach bug,” you stated finally. “I’ve been through worse. Please. I- I don’t like people taking care of me when I’m sick. Any other time, this would be so appreciated, but I can take care of myself today.”

The look on his face reminded you of the early days of him living in America, over three years ago now. The look of just simple confusion as to what someone had said. Even then, they didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, someone would catch him off guard–use a word or phrase he had never heard before. But it had been years since you had seen that look cross his face.

After two minutes of excruciating silence, you shattered the air with a single word. “What?”

The noise struck him into action, and he began faltering for words. But his eyes never left yours. Eventually, he managed to quietly say “In sickness and health.” Your eyebrows furrowed. What?

Upon seeing the bewilderment on your face, he continued to explain. “In sickness and health. How can I take care of you in sickness and health if you won’t let me?” He almost looked helpless asking you, and in a normal situation, you would have comforted him to ease his confusion.

But your mind was still trying to process what he had said.

“Laf… Those are marriage vows. We’re not- we’re not married.” You held your breath as you waited for a response.

The expression that crossed his face was one that usually signaled he wasn’t sure if you made a joke or not. “But someday we will be,” he stated so effortlessly and simply. “And if you can’t let me take care of you now, how will you let me take care of you then?” He asked the question with such pure innocence, but it caused all your blood flow to stop, and your heart to become prickly. You had never talked about marriage before. Honestly, you hadn’t even been sure he was going to stick around in America after you both graduated this spring.

Without warning, however, your feet began flying you to the bathroom. This time, there was nothing left, and you had to endure ten minutes of dry heaving.

When you were done, you sat up lightheaded, with tears streaming down your face. You didn’t have the energy to stand, so you began crawling to the doorway. When you got closer, you noticed Lafayette’s feet sticking out. He was sitting right outside the door.

You huddled in a ball right beside the door in the bathroom. Neither of you spoke for the longest time.

Finally, you heard him sigh. “Alright, I have a compromise. If I cannot take care of you, may I at least accompany you so you’re not alone?”

Your immediate reaction was to decline and tell him to go to class again. But then the look on his face desperately asking how he was going to take care of you if–when–you were married entered your mind again. And if you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his warmth on the other side of the doorway. And it was nice. To have that warmth just… there.

So you finally whispered, “Sure.”

Without looking at you, he gently placed a hand through the threshold of the doorway on the floor next to you. You looked at it warily at first, but then removed one of your arms from your huddle and softly intertwined your fingers with his.

And for the first time that morning, you didn’t have to force yourself to think of something besides the pain.


	6. The Stars Over the Sun: Hercules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually strangers sitting by you in the bar is the worst thing. But there are exceptions to every rule.
> 
> Hercules x Female Reader

Two months, one week, and six days after you met Hercules Mulligan, you still couldn’t get him out of your head.

The night you met, you were drowning the stress of your day at the local bar when a tall man you had never seen before sat down beside you. It wasn’t the first time a random guy happened to take an empty seat next to you while the whole bar remained empty. But with your shitty day, you were ready to make it the last.

“Can I help you?” you asked impatiently, turning to the man next to you. He was facing the bartender, but upon hearing your voice turned curiously to lay his eyes upon your ferocious expression. Your forwardness must have caught him off guard, for he began to fumble for words.

“I-I don’t think so,” he finally stammered, before quickly turning away from you and keeping his eyes down on the top of the bar, still waiting for the bartender to notice and attend him.

You watched him curiously and slightly annoyed as he nervously fiddled his fingers, obviously avoiding your gaze. After observing him for a few minutes, it finally hit you that maybe he was just sitting there to sit there and not to make a move on you.

You let out a chuckle at yourself, and the man gave you a confused side glance. “I’m sorry,” you finally said to him. He still seemed skeptical. “I thought you sat here to flirt with me, and after the shitty day I had, I really wasn’t in the mood,” you explained further, still laughing at yourself and rambling a bit. When your eyes met, there was amusement in his.

There seemed to be a weight lifted off of him as he said, “It’s no problem. You would be surprised how many times women get mad at me on sight.” The comment caused a laugh to erupt from you, which then convinced your new acquaintance to join in. The noise–finally–attracted the attention of the bartender, who subsequently came over and took the man’s order.

After his order was taken, the man turned back to you and held out his hand. “Hercules Mulligan.” You gladly shook it with a small smile on your face.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“Y/N,” Hercules repeated, studying your face intently. “You know, I swear you look familiar. Have we met before?”

You shook your head. “No. I would remember you,” you replied definitely, before realizing what you said. A light blush creeped onto your cheeks, but you were comforted when you saw a redness in his too. You opened your mouth to speak again, when you were cut off.

“Herc!” A drunken Alexander Hamilton came up beside Hercules and wrapped one arm around him while the other held a stein. He whispered something in Hercules’ ear, to which he responded with a small laugh.

Hercules then looked at Alexander and said in a normal tone while gesturing to you, “Alexander, this is-”

He didn’t let him finish. “Y/N!” Alexander seemed relatively excited to see you, but you were sure it was just the effect of the alcohol. You gracefully accepted his hug, though, and shot a look to Hercules, who seemed mildly amused by the whole situation. “How’s Burr?” Alexander asked after he pulled away, slurring his words slightly.

With a slight laugh, you responded, “Aaron’s fine, as always.” You heard the rest of Alexander’s friends calling to him and Hercules from across the bar, and flashed Alexander a smile as he began walking away towards them. “It was nice to see you again, Alexander!” With a winning smile and a wink, he walked back towards Lafayette and Laurens. You turned your attention back towards Hercules.

“I knew I knew you!” he said with a triumphant smile. “You’re the girl always hanging out with Aaron Burr.”

You held up your stein with a small smile. “Guilty as charged.” You paused for a second to glance over at Alexander and company across the bar, and while still looking at them amused, you said, “I didn’t realize you were part of Alexander’s gang.”

With a small chuckle, Hercules commented, “I hope that’s not a bad thing.”

“Not at all!” you said giddy, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. “Aaron and Alexander have their differences, but I think when it comes down to it, they have each other’s backs. I don’t have anything against Alexander… or his friends.”

With sly smiles, you clicked your steins together to seal the friendship and delved into a deep conversation that lasted most of the night.

“A tailor’s apprentice!” you exclaimed when he told you of his occupation. You may not have been sober, but you could see his expression drop a little, like he didn’t think that was a good thing. “My uncle was a tailor,” you quickly explained, trying to ease over his feelings. “He was my favorite person in the whole world. I only ever looked forward to days I could visit him in his shop when I was little.” A little sparkle entered his eye that made your stomach swoop.

“And what, may I ask, do you preoccupy your days with?”

You hesitated the slightest bit before answering. You never knew how people would react to your response.

“College, mostly,” you said carefully, though the look Hercules gave you allowed you to relax a bit. He seemed impressed, not appalled like a lot of men usually were. “I work as a teaching assistant at the King’s College,” you elaborated, not wanting him to think you were still a student.

“Beautiful and smart,” he said with an affectionate smile.

Heat rushed to your face again. You shook your head with a strained smile. “‘Completely inappropriate’ are the words my mother used,” you admitted with a grimace.

You were shocked, however, to look over at Hercules and find him looking almost angry. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he commented defensively. You shot him an appreciative smile.

Then a call came from across the room. “Herc! We’re leaving!”

Without breaking eye contact with you, he waved his hand in acknowledgement and stood up from his barstool. “If you ever, for whatever reason, need a tailor in the future, please contact me. I would be more than happy to help you.” With that he picked up and kissed the top of your hand, which made your stomach drop. You watch him walk halfway across the bar before you quickly stood up.

“Hercules!” He stopped and turned around, and your heart swelled at the hope in his eyes. “What if… What if I need an escort home tonight? Would you still be willing to help me?” The words came out of your mouth a bit jumbled, but you found yourself want to spend more time with Hercules Mulligan. You took his beam as a yes, and quickly crossed the bar after him and latched onto his arm.

You smiled fondly remembering that first walk home. Now a couple months later, Hercules walking you home became an almost expected occurrence. In fact, he pulled you from you thoughts by whispering in your ear if you would like escorted to night. You nodded with a smile, and bid farewell to the others still in the bar with you at this late hour. Lafayette had already made his way home, but Aaron (who took some convincing, but now was a regular acquaintance of the gang), Alex, and John had just ordered a new round. They all gave Herc and you knowing winks and nods as you stood up to leave together, to which you both responded with eyerolls.

You took a deep breath of fresh air as you exited the bar, and couldn’t help but smile as the cool wind whipped across your face. You gently rested your head against Hercules’ scratchy wool coat as you made your way towards your house.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you whispered into the cool night air. Hercules hummed in response, but you knew he wasn’t looking upwards. “I much prefer the company and light of the stars than daylight,” you commented absentmindedly. Hercules had grown used to your random thoughts on the walks home, but this one he seemed to take a personal interest in.

You felt his head shift more downwards so as to look at the top of your head. “What light do the stars provide over the sun?”

Your face lit up at the question, and you quickly pulled away from his arm and ran in front of him to walk backwards, taking his hands in yours. “Millions. The stars provide millions of lights.” Hercules looked at you amused, which you took as your cue to continue. “It’s like people. You-you meet someone, and they have this one quality that kind of blinds out all the others. That’s their sun.” You were still walking backwards, and Hercules still seemed entertained at how animated you were. “And then you get to know them, and their sun goes down, and you’re left with all the amazing qualities you couldn’t see before.”

“Their stars,” Hercules whispered, with a small smile on his face. You were stopped now, you noticed, in front of your apartment. But you kept holding on to Hercules’ hands, and you were wondering whether or not the trees were still providing oxygen to breathe because you both seemed to have stopped.

Subconsciously, you both began to move towards each other. Your breaths came short and staggered, your stomach rolled fast enough to make your palms sweaty. As you gravitated towards each other, you gently closed your eyes in anticipation, and whispered, “I really like your stars, Hercules Mulligan.”

When his lips connected with yours, your entire body stiffened before eventually relaxing and melting into his body. You released his hands and grabbed the front of his scratchy wool coat to pull him closer. With his hands now free, he used them to hug your waist. His soft lips seemed to burn yours as you tried to erase any physical distance between the two of you.

When you pulled away, you could visibly see the stars dance in eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Hercules whispered with a loving smile as he untangled you from his arms and turned to walk away.

You watched him leave while lightly holding your fingers to your lips, tracing the ghost of the kiss in the cool night.

“Goodnight, Hercules,” you whispered to the night. And then with a blush and a smile, you turned and walked inside your apartment, your first–and hopefully not last–kiss from Hercules Mulligan haunting your every step.


	7. Family and Country: Hercules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are four things you know you love: God, the King, your father, and your Loyalist solider Hercules.
> 
> Hercules x Female Reader

_“God has blessed us with family and country, and family and country come before everything but God.”_

The mantra had been beaten into you since the day you were born. It was the first thing you embroidered as a young girl. It was a constant reminder: you served God, the King, and your father first and foremost everyday.

“Y/N, you’ll want to make sure the strawberries get picked today. I would hate to have to blame Hercules for perfectly ripe berries gone bad,” your mother said to you in a teasing tone as she passed you with a bucket of water fetched from the well.

You looked up at your mother with a grin and a gleam in your eyes as you quickly gathered your ink and parchment off the kitchen table and placed it on the nearby cupboard. “Well, we all know how soldiers like Hercules fear over ripened strawberries. I must protect him at once,” you called back to her, the same amount of gentle teasing filling your voice. Though you really only wanted to finish your letter to your lover, you knew your mother would become stern rather quickly if she caught you still writing, so instead, you hurried out to the strawberry patch with a small bowl and began collecting the fruit provided for you there.

You became lost in thought, imagining the day when your soldier would come back for you. Hercules Mulligan. The man who seemingly effortlessly entered your life. He befriended your father one day at a Loyalist meeting. Your father was seemingly impressed by the young tailor’s knowledge of strategy and invited him back to your house. As Hercules moved up the ranks in the Loyalist and Britain army, he began spending more time with your family, your father in particular. It was one of the advantages of having a father entrusted by every Loyalist in the colonies.

Your meetings with Hercules started off harmless enough. You would “accidentally” walk into a room he was privately working. He would start up a conversation. Soon, neither of you used excuses to see each other anymore. After knowing you for two months, you began courting, and you felt like the luckiest girl alive.

But that bliss could only last for so long. Hercules was called back into the line of action. And you were left home to wait upon his return.

“Y/N!” Your brother’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to him with a beam, squinting into the hot summer sun. But your face fell when you saw the look of urgency on his face as he ran towards you. You quickly stood up and brushed the dirt off your skirt. The only thing running on a loop in your mind was Hercules. If his platoon got ambushed by the godforsaken Patriots-

Your breath got stuck in your throat. You couldn’t finish your thought.

“Richard?” you asked cautiously as he approached you. The look upon his face seemed as if it were trying to convey to you the worst of things had happened. “Richard, what is it?” You could feel every muscle in your body tense, waiting for your brother’s response.

He looked dismayed, as if he didn’t want to tell you. He hesitated for a second, then finally said, “It’s Hercules.”

Everything left your body. He died. It was all you could think. The tears began staining your face as you crumpled to the ground. As your knees made solid contact with the dirt, a drawn out moan erupted from your mouth.

Richard immediately dropped to your side and wrapped his arms around you. In an urgent whisper straight into your ear, he quickly said, “He’s not dead, Y/N. Stop crying. You can’t draw attention to us.” You immediately, ceased your sobs, and looked at your brother bewildered. When your eyes met his, they met an intensity you had never seen before. “If Father finds out I’m telling you any of this, I could be lashed, okay? I’m not supposed to know this. I care about you though. And I trust you not to do anything stupid. Is that right of me? Should I trust you?” He eyes seemed wild, but furiously searched yours for an answer.

 

After staring at him in confusion for a few moments longer, you finally slowly nodded your head. What on Earth was happening?

Richard roughly helped you up of the ground before he began speaking again. “It’s Hercules,” he restated.

“But he’s not dead,” you continued. If he wasn’t dead, why was your brother looking at you like he was.

Richard shook his head in confirmation. “He’s not dead. It’s worse than that.” You blood froze in the heat of the sun. What was worse than death?

“He-” You watched as your brother struggled to find the words. “He’s a spy, Y/N. He’s a Patriot.”

Your mind couldn’t comprehend the words at first. You thought maybe you had switched to talking about a different person. Because your Hercules was not a Patriot. He was not a rebel. He was an upstanding British citizen, a Loyalist. He once told you he joined the army because he wanted to “protect this country from itself”.

You shook your head. “You’re lying,” you whispered. Richard grabbed your shoulders roughly.

“I’m not,” he said forcefully. “Think about it. He came out of nowhere. No Loyalist had ever even heard of him before. And he just happens to befriend our father, one of the most high ranking Loyalists in the colonies. And after that he-” His voice cut off abruptly, stopping himself from what he was about to say. But he didn’t have to say it.

“He loves me,” you gritted out, trying to convince yourself more than him. “I’m not just some pawn. I’m not his tool to get a higher rank. He. Loves. Me.” The tears once again began rolling down your cheeks. Hercules Mulligan did not use you. You-you refused to let him use you.

Your eyes searched Richard’s for answers, advice, comfort, anything, but he just gazed at you with pity and sad eyes. When the tears began coming on more viciously, he pulled you into him and held you tightly as you cried into his chest.

Finally he pulled back and softly said, “He’s here.” Your eyes shot up in fear and alarm. What would your father- “Father’s already… spoken with him.” You could see the grimace on Richard’s face. Your stomach turned violently imagining what your father would have done to him. “They’re keeping him in the cellar. You know where the key is. But… I understand you need to do something, but don’t… don’t do anything stupid. Clean yourself up and come back inside. Act normal, if at all possible.” You nodded numbly, already formulating a plan from Richard’s information.

The rest of the day passed slow. You managed to smile brightly at your father during dinner, and even entertained your father’s guest on the harpsichord after dinner. You tried your best to ignore the dried blood both men missed washing off their hands.

As the rest of the house settled in for the night, you waited and watched the moon rise to its peak. And when you hadn’t heard a single creak in the house in more than one hour, you made your move.

Barefooted, you gently padded your way down the stairs without even a candle for fear of being caught. You crept open the door successfully without it creaking, and escaped into the night air. You hurriedly made your way around to the back side of the house, ignoring the sharp jabs of stones in your soft feet. Your heart was racing a million miles per second. What could you even say to him?

You stared at the cellar door helplessly. Closing your eyes, you took two deep breaths to try and contain the shuddering and the sobs trying to emit themselves from your body. Eventually, you found enough composure to reach up to a brick at eye level and gently wriggle it from its position in the exterior of your house. Your heart leapt when your hand reached inside the newly exposed hole and met a metal key.

No time was wasted inserting the key into the door and slowly opening it up into the darkness below. Hesitantly, you put one foot onto a cool damp step. With one final deep breath of the night air, you descended into the darkness below.

The cellar was pitch black, and since your eyes hadn’t had enough time to adjust on your descent down you stared blindly into nothing. “Hercules?” you whispered cautiously.

It felt like an eternity before you heard “Y/N?” whispered back at you. It was the first time today you weren’t crying tears of desolation, but rather tears of relief. You felt a familiar large figure approach you and carefully wrap his arms around you. You gratefully hugged your love back, before you realized what was happening.

When you did realize, you quickly pushed him back, and your tears once again turn to ones of grief. “You-you traitor!” you whispered, but it might as well been a scream by the way you saw the outline of his figure flinch. “You used my father! You used me!” The sobs were becoming more vocal.

“No, please, Y/N,” you heard his voice plea. “I used your father, yes. I am a spy, yes. I’m a dirty Patriot, loyal to General George Washington, but Y/N-” he paused, choking back a sob. “Y/N you were never a part of any of the lies.”

Venom filled your lungs. “How can you say that?” you asked incredulously. Anger began coursing through your veins. “I’m a Loyalist. You were spying on my father, my family. How can you say I wasn’t a part of the lies?”

You saw his figure step towards you, and you tried to take a step back, but your feet wouldn’t let you move fast enough. Instead, you let your shoulders fall under his light grasp. And you hated that welcomed the feeling of him next to you.

“I never once lied to you. Even when we would talk about the King, or the Patriots or anything, Y/N. I always phrased my words so I would never lie to you. Please, search our conversations. I-I couldn’t have bared it if I lied to you. I love you.” Your body shook at his words and you knew they were true. But everything in you wanted them not to be.

It was much easier to hate someone if you didn’t love them.

You both remained silent in the dark void of the haunted earth you had been cast upon. Finally, you managed to strangle out some words to shatter the silence. “ ‘God has blessed us with family and country’,” you whispered solemnly, ashamed. You felt Hercules shudder at your words, knowing their implied meaning: you couldn’t be with him. Even if you loved him. Even if he loved you.

You served God; you served the King; you served your father.

You didn’t resist when you felt his warm breath settle upon your face. You didn’t resist when you felt his mouth close the space between you. You softly and desperately kissed him back, gripping his coat tightly and pulling him in as close as possible. His lips burned yours with the desire of one hundred years you would never get to spend together. And when you finally pulled apart from each other, neither of you were sure who’s tears stained the other’s face.

“ ‘And family and country come before everything but God’,” his forlorn voice answered.

You could barely think straight, but you knew you couldn’t keep this up much longer. You couldn’t keep him here much longer if he wasn’t to be yours. So gathering all the strength and courage you could muster, your lips formed the words you knew you would regret as soon as you said them: “You should go.”

He stared at you for a couple moments. His voice came strangled through the tears. “Yeah. Okay.” Timidly, he grabbed your hand and you squeezed it as you both ascended in the the cool night from the cellar. In the light of the moon, you could finally take in his features one last time. You had to hold in a shudder from the state of his appearance. His face seemed completely mauled, and you couldn’t, wouldn’t picture your love being brutalized at the hands of your father: the same hands that held you when you cried.

Hercules seemed to realize this would be his last time seeing you, so this time when he kissed you it was wild and full of despair. And it was over too fast.

You saw the tears forming in his eyes, and you tried to give a light hearted smile: something he could remember you by. “Hey,” you whispered gently, wiping a tear off his cheek. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist and his head was buried into your neck. Feeling the shudder of each sob was enough to destroy what life you still had in you. You clutched to him tightly, as you too began to sob again.

“Go find another girl,” you managed to whisper pleadingly between the tears. “Go find her and make her happy for me. D-don’t forget me though.”

“I couldn’t,” he whispered into your neck, and then he abruptly pulled away from you, planted one last kiss on your lips, and began running through your yard to freedom.

You watched his figure disappear in the distance; with a loud thud against the dirt, you sat harshly against the ground. Tears stung and danced in the corners of your eyes, knowing you would never see your love again.

You couldn’t be entirely sure who you picked: your family and country or him. All you knew was you didn’t pick the one thing you probably should have.

Yourself.


	8. His Voice: John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: hi! could i get an imagine w john or alex or anyone in hamilsquad really about being in love with a girl but finding out she’s been enslaved or something? love how they were all abolitionists so maybe them getting passionate about freeing her or angst if they can’t or anything you want! any way you want to end it or whatever direction is your call, thanks!
> 
> John x Female Reader

John swears he fell in love with you the moment he saw you.

The idea seemed preposterous to you. Nobody falls in love that quickly. Especially not with you. The only reason you didn’t dismiss his claim entirely was if anyone in this world was so much of a hopeless romantic to fall in love on sight, it would be your sweet John Laurens.

“Please don’t leave.” His whispered plea rang around in your head everyday for the near five months since that first chance meeting. Some days you wished more than anything you hadn’t snuck down to the riverside that night. The heartbreak and hopelessness your soul would’ve avoided was…

You shook your head. It was too late to think like that. Because even though you may not have fallen in love that very first moment with John, in one of the many moments after, you had. And you welcomed the pain if it was accompanied by him.

A slight smile turned at your lips as you thought of him awaiting you by the river tonight. These days always went the slowest. The bustle around the household seemed rather monotone and repetitive to you; you often became distracted or dazed, which did not go unnoticed or please your master. It was not uncommon for you to endure several lashings for sloppy work.

“You’re doing it again.” The harsh whisper from who you would consider one of your closer friends jolted you back to reality. You sheepishly met Caroline’s eyes with a blush creeping into your cheeks; a stone cold glare greeted you. “I don’t know why you get like this, but I’m not watching you get lashed again. Snap out of it.” You somberly nodded as she strutted away towards the wash room. Taking a deep breath, you set forth, determined to keep yourself focused.

But oh how the day dragged on.

You wished the gallons of sweat on your back could travel down and wash out the multiplying blisters on your feet instead of being absorbed by your dress. You wished the sun could dim its light and warmth by sixty percent, so you weren’t always squinting and sweltering. You wished the cool river water you could hear through the window taunting you would douse and cleanse you in all its glory.

Towards the end of the day, your master and his mistress called for an assemblance of all the household slaves. As your master’s stone face began to speak, your ears began ringing and your heart thudded loud enough to shudder the whole of the house. The words “financial cuts” and “auction tomorrow” rattled around, refusing to connect in your brain.

Numbly, you turned your head to look for reassurance from Caroline, but instead you found her weeping desperately. It was then you finally accepted what you had just been told. Tomorrow you would be sold. And then God knows what or who would await you.

A deep shudder engrossed your body, and tears began forming in your eyes, when one horrifying thought entered your mind: John.

Gasping for breath, sobs racked your body in harmony with the other girls. How would you tell him?

Suddenly, you dreaded every minute that brought you closer to the night. If you could stop time and live in the eternity of anticipation to see your love one last time-

The bells rang. It was time to go back to your quarters.

Your body shook with every step, and when you reached your hard bed, you couldn’t stop yourself from crumbling into it and once again allowing the sobs to take over. Tomorrow, everything you knew and the one you loved would be gone.

At the eleven o’clock bells, you shot out of bed. Sleep must have taken ahold of you without your knowing, and now you would be late for your last meeting with John. Every minute it took for you to get to your bend in the river was a minute wasted without him. Quickly you scrambled to grab your black cloth you used as a cloak to allow the night to hide you and raced from your quarters. All of your months of meticulous care of sneaking about were thrown to the wind, for what did matter now if you were caught if you were to be sold come dawn.

He always sat with his back to you as you approached. Tonight, you profited from his choice by stopping and just taking him in and really observing your love. It was the last time you would be able to do so.

Your sobs betrayed you. John quickly turned around, alarmed at the tears streaking down your cheeks. The sight of his beautiful eyes and thousands of freckles felt like a knife in your chest. You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t hurt him.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern filling his eyes as he slowly moved towards you. “What’s-what’s wrong?” His confidence faltered as he watched your face fill with pain. You always wondered what his voice sounded like above a soft whisper; you would never find out. “Y/N?” Fear began to appear on his face. You could tell he was confused and scared of your tears.

After watching your tears for several minutes, you noticed he too began to have streams running down his face. He knew something had happened. Something worse than usual. And you still couldn’t it find it in yourself to speak. You felt his arms wrap around you in a tight hug, and you shuddered at the contact before embracing him and weeping into his chest. Not even the warmth of his body could end your shuddering tonight.

When he pulled back, he kept his hands on your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye, fresh tears still marring his face. “Y/N, tell me what-”

You silenced him quickly with a kiss. The softness and warmth of his lips were the most effective so far at calming you. But not even this could last forever.

When you broke away from him, you avoided eye contact by bowing your head. Through a strangled voice, you finally let the words come out mumbled: “They’re selling me tomorrow.”

You felt John’s whole body tense. His breathing stopped and when you finally lifted your eyes to his face, even in the moonlight the shade of his skin was noticeably paled.

“What?”

His voice came out raspy and strained; his head began to shake back and forth in disbelief. You felt his hands move from your shoulders and cup your cheeks. Your eyes stared back into his, numb from all the crying throughout the day. A grimace contorted your face as he asked you to tell him it wasn’t true. You watched as all his dreams of liberating you die in the embers of his eyes. In all the time you knew him, you had never seen John hopeless; the sight of it now snapped something inside of you. You disconnected from the world, numb, betrayed.

John took a shuddering breath and managed to form words from his lips: “I came here t-tonight to tell you it was ready.” He was rambling and talking to no one in particular it seemed, as when your eyes search his face, his eyes were directed at anything but you.

“John… What are you talking about?” Your voice seemed to refocus him, as his eyes immediately darted back to yours. Somehow you managed to keep eye contact with him even though each tear that stained the forest of freckles upon his cheekbones was another dagger you felt in your stomach.

Gently, his hands cupped your face and your breath hitched as he leaned forward until your foreheads became connected. Firmly, your hands held onto his wrists for dear life and your eyes clenched shut as you tried to absorb every moment in the heat of his breathing.

Finally, he spoke. “We finally worked out a plan to free you. Next week you were going to be free and I was going to make you my-” His voice cut off, unable to continue through the sobs. The warm tears from him joined yours on your cheeks. You felt his hands move from your face into an embrace crushing your body into his: the two of you holding on so tight you hoped to smother out his unspoken word.

Wife.

The word rattled around in your now empty and numb brain. Throughout the rest of the night of sweet soft kisses and pure anger and passion, you learned that shameless word was the trigger. One dwelling thought on it brought back all the pain and all the tears.

Each step on the walk back to your quarters put a new weight on your chest that night. You tried to keep from thinking. But your mind resisted. Instead of walking back to ownership, you imagined walking down an aisle. Instead of the whisper of the field grass, you imagined the whispers of your lover. And instead of enslavement, you imagined freedom.

When you finally reached your bed, you huddled within it, broken, confused, numb, empty, heartbroken… and slightly relieved. The worst was behind you. At least, that’s what you told yourself so you could indulge in a couple of hours of sleep.

In the morning, however, you knew there could still be much worse to come. Each of the girls in your quadrant of the building shuffled through the motions that morning. Each of you were tired of crying at that point, but that still didn’t prevent the occasional tear or two. You found Caroline, but neither of you spoke a word. You enjoyed each other’s silence and company for one last time.

Time seemed to pass slowly on the journey to the auction. Everything became a blur your mind seemed to block out for your own sake. You didn’t want to remember any of this. You turned your head as the women in front of you were bid on, instead focusing on your dirt covered feet that last night walked you to your John.

A rough grasp pulling you up to the stage yanked you from your thoughts. The numbers called out became jumbled in your head as you couldn’t focus on a single one. The task at hand was not to cry, not to show weakness. So, with your jaw set and eyes still staring intently at the floor, you managed to accomplish at least that.

Eventually you heard the final bid and a man came to retrieve you from the stage. He didn’t say a word to you and you didn’t grace him with even a glance. As he led you from the stage, you decided to rather focus on his feet. Suddenly, his feet stopped, and you bumped into the back of him. Your eyes widened in fear and without consciously trying, you placed your first look onto your new ower. But you were shocked to find him solemnly looking at you, seemingly trying to find words.

“This is… This is really complicated what’s happening right now, and I just need you to get into the carriage. I will explain later, okay?”

You stared at the man bewildered. His long hair blew in his face from the wind, and though his clothes labeled him as a simply lived man, his stance suggested his air of confidence and importance. But his eyes still sincerely stayed locked on yours pleading. “Please?” he asked again.

You couldn’t decide if it was a test or not. This man should not be letting you into his carriage, but yet…

Eventually, you let out a small sigh and climbed the stairs into the carriage, to which the man repaid you with a small smile. “We’ll be home in an hour,” he promised and then swung the door shut and went to the front to drive.

Who on earth could this man be, you wondered. Though you tried your hardest to resist sleep’s temptations, your late night excursion and all the exhausting emotions that accompanied it soon caught up with you, and sleep took you away.

“Y/N?” You heard the soft voice calling you, while gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you blinked open your eyes to the blurry figure hovering over you in the carriage. When you finally recognized him, your blood froze.

He stared at you expectantly in all of his beauty: his curly hair still a mess from the night before and his freckles ever abounding.

“John?” you whispered breathlessly, convinced you were still in some dream. A smile broke out on his face and as tears began leaking from his eyes, a hearty and relieved laugh sounded from his body. He quickly closed the distance between you and engulfed you in a hug. You began crying at the sight of him, but still remained confused as to how he was in front of you.

Without explanation, he led you from the carriage and presented you to the man from before and a woman you presumed was his wife. You searched all of their faces for explanations.

The wife was eventually the one to provide it. “Y/N, John has told us so much about you. Alexander and I couldn’t stand by. Our home is yours until you’re on your feet, and even then, you’re always welcome with us.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but could find no words to adequately fit the situation. The man–Alexander–could tell your were still confused and wary, so he spoke instead.

“You’re free, Y/N. It’s over.”

His words took a moment to register, but once they did, you had to use John to steady yourself. Tears began to pour out of your eyes and your hand immediately flew to cover your mouth. John once again hugged you and kissed your forehead lightly.

Your first words of the day were released from your possession: “I love you.” The words came through tears and, as your head was still buried in John’s chest, were a bit muffled. Suddenly, though, your relief came to a halt.

“What about, all the other girls. Caroli-” But John cut you off by shaking his head and placing his hands on your cheeks.

He looked you directly in the eye and whispered a promise: “We’re going to get them too, Y/N. Alex and I, we’re working on a plan for all of them. They will have their freedom.”

Overwhelmed with emotions, you once again enveloped each other into a tight hug. When you finally pulled apart again, he gently took your hand and kissed it, both of you still wearing your streams of tears with pride. “I love you,” he said sincerely, emotion swelling without him.

You broke down in tears again. His voice was beautiful.


	9. Your Enemies are Mine: John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hello. Can I request something like, Reader is a boy who wears dresses and skirts and everyone judges them but John thinks they look adorable. Sorry if it sounds weird I love your blog!
> 
> John x Male Reader

You smirked as you noticed the curly-haired boy glance at you another time, and once again wished you were able to put a name to the face.

People giving you side glances wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You had been receiving them since the day your mother let you wear your first skirt in public. She tried to warn you, but she also knew you needed to do this for yourself. And while the first stares stung, eventually you realized they were better than slurs shouted at you and they were an easy price to pay for being yourself.

But for the past month or so, you had found yourself running into the same freckled faced, curly haired stare around the city. And the only reason you remembered his face was because it wasn’t the usual stare. In fact, you didn’t know what it was.

It wasn’t confusion or anger or disgust. And you had no idea what to make of it.

The third time you had noticed him, you held his gaze, until he averted eye contact. About the fifth time you noticed him, you had winked at him just for fun, and he blushed and immediately turned and walked away. The sixth time you tried to make your way to him to say hi, and he looked paralyzed. But before you got to him, he suddenly became surrounded by a group of his friends, who he reluctantly let lead him away.

Today was the ninth time you had seen this mysterious boy, but you decided if he wanted to talk to you, he would approach you. And as usual, he didn’t. So you sipped your smoothie in the mall courtyard and pondered over what you thought freckle-face’s name was with amusement.

You decided he looked like an Anthony.

About to glance over at him again, your phone buzzed, directing your eyes’ attention towards it. You smiled slightly when you saw who it was from.

“We still on for tonight?” your best friend Maria asked.

Your fingers began moving over the keyboard fluidly. “You bet. I haven’t been looking forward to anything but this musical for months now.” You sent it with a small laugh, knowing Maria would catch your sarcasm.

And without missing a beat, she responded a minute later. “Same. Middle school musical productions are all I live for.”

With a chuckle, you stood up from your chair, attention still on your screen, and purposefully walked right passed “Anthony”, your dress swishing around your body. You were determined to have a little fun with the guy if he refused to talk to you.

Anthony was completely out of your head though by the time you arrived home though. You were welcomed by your youngest sister screaming as she ran past you at the front door and up the stairs. Cassie always had quite a temper, but you imagined your mother didn’t have the patience for it today. You stopped in the kitchen, where your mother was trying to cook while holding your baby brother. Sighing with a smile you gently took Tommy away from her.

“Your father’s stuck in traffic and I have to drive Josh up to the school in twenty minutes,” she explained as she wildly stirred cookie batter. Setting Tommy down in his highchair, you ignored his crying screams as you took out the cookie sheets and sprayed them for your mother, who thanked you. As she scooped the dough into little balls and placed them on the sheets, you picked Tommy up again. His cries ceased moments later.

“I’ll go check to make sure Josh is ready and calm down Cassie. Where’s Julia?” you asked your mother, who was already visibly calmer.

Your mother shoved the first pan of the cookies needed for the musicals concessions in the oven as she responded. “I think she’s in her room doing homework.”

You nodded and made your way back out to the entry to the stairs. As you were taking your first step up the stairs, the front door opened behind you.

“I’m here! I’m here! What needs done?” your father’s voice rang out into the entry. You chuckled quietly to yourself. The middle school musical was like this every year for your family.

“Mom’s finishing the cookies. Cassie’s mad. Julia’s ignoring us. Josh is hopefully ready. And Tommy needs to be ready,” you rattled off. Your father nodded.

He joined you going up the stairs. “You take Julia and Tommy. I’ve got the other two,” he dictated. You nodded and decided Tommy would be easiest to accomplish first.

Once Tommy was ready, he was calm enough to be sat down in his crib and left alone. You didn’t trust how long that would last, however, so you ran to Julia’s room to deal with her a quickly as possibly. As expected, you found her with her headphones in watching Netflix and typing on her phone.

“Julia,” you said a little louder than normal. She didn’t respond, so you snuck up on her instead. You noticed the name she was texting was her best friend Eliza. But she clicked off her phone and whipped around before you could read more.

“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” you explained to her “I’m-angry-at-you-for-trying-to-read-my-texts-over-my-shoulder” face. But eventually she sighed and said something you weren’t expecting instead.

“Let me pick out your outfit tonight, Y/N.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why did she want to pick out your outfit?

You sighed and sat down on her bed. You were sure the other kids made fun of her as well for being your sister. But you didn’t know how to make that up to her. She was a year younger than you and tough. And you owed her more than this.

But before she could say anything, it was like it clicked as to why you thought she wanted to pick your outfit. “Oh, no, Y/N! It’s nothing like that,” she tried to explain quickly. You looked at her with confusion. “Eliza’s sister Angelica wants to introduce you to her friend John tonight, and you have to wear your red dress with the gold because nothing will win him over faster.”

You chuckled at her response, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest at the reasoning behind it. “You know, there’s not a high chance anything will win a guy over with me, but if you get ready in five minutes and go help mom finish the cookies, you have yourself a deal.”

Julia smirked and shook her head. “Fine, deal. But don’t give up so quickly on this one. Angelica has a good feeling.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked out of the room. What did Angelica Schuyler know about you? Sure, she was in your school, but you never talked to her or any of her friends because they were always in the Honors or Advanced classes, the schedules for which never matched up with you lowly normal students. And then you got to wondering which group of friends this friend of hers was from. Because you had heard she spent most of her time with a group from a different school.

But if only to make Julia happy, you entered your room and shimmied out of your current dress and donned the red and gold one. Quickly you made your way to Tommy’s room and downstairs to make sure everything was down. As you reached the entry, your father beamed at you proudly and gestured to Cassie who was now ready but sulking and Josh who was itching to leave. You gratefully noticed Julia in the kitchen helping your mother place the last of the cookies in the container. Your family had managed to do it once again.

“Done! Out to the van!” your mother exclaimed from the kitchen, and your dad and you began ushering the younger ones out the door.

As you strapped Tommy into his carseat, your mom made her way around the van to the passenger side. She paused to look at you. “You look so nice, Y/N. I love that dress,” she commented in her “I-love-my-children-so-much” voice. You smiled warmly as she kissed your cheek. Then you clambered into the back of the van with Julia.

When you arrived at the school, Maria was waiting at the entrance for you. “Hey Josh!” she called out when she saw your brother’s excited grin. “I can’t wait to see you kill it out there dude!”

Josh was always excited to get attention from Maria, which Maria of course found adorable and granted every chance she could get. You rolled your eyes with a smirk as Josh gave her a high five and ran inside. Maria then turned her attention to your parents.

“Josh is your best child,” she said seriously, and your parents broke out into a laugh. You feigned pain at your best friend’s statement, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He likes me more than you, Y/N,” she stated simply. To this you responded with a chuckle and made your way indoors.

Your family and Maria placed yourselves were you usually sit for a school musical: towards the front but by the side aisle. This was strategically picked so if Tommy or Cassie decided to act up, they could quickly and efficiently be removed from the premises.

Julia noticed Eliza sitting with her family and made her way over to talk with her excitedly. You noticed Angelica was not present, and felt your face heat up as Eliza glanced over at you with a thumbs up for the dress.

“You look nice tonight,” Maria commented as you both sat down. You shrugged.

“Angelica Schuyler wants to introduce me to someone tonight according to Julia. I was instructed to wear this,” you commented nonchalantly. Maria furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Who would Angelica Schuyler want to introduce you to?” she asked. You shook your head in confusion and Maria decided to turn the conversation to a different subject.

Five minutes before the show started, you noticed Angelica walk in with a group of friends. You recognized Alexander Hamilton and George Washington, but you figured the rest were friends from the other school. And then you realized you recognized one of the faces you didn’t have a name for.

“Whoa,” Maria said at the same time you came to the realization. “Isn’t that your stalker?”

You shook your head and turned your attention to Maria. “He’s not my stalker. We just run into each other a lot. And he stares at me a lot.” Maria raised her eyebrows at you and began laughing.

“Nevertheless,” Maria commented, “I can’t believe Angelica got all of her friends to come to Peggy’s musical. You could barely get me to come.” You rolled your eyes, and snuck a glance back over at Anthony. You felt heat immediately rush to your face as your eyes mets his.

When the lights came up after the musical, you tried not to look like you were waiting for Angelica to approach you. You stood to find your brother in the crowd of people congratulating the cast. But quickly Maria forcibly turned your attention to behind you. There you were startled to watch Angelica drag Anthony over to you by the wrist as the rest of their friends giggled from behind.

“Y/N,” Angelica stated with an excited sigh when she got to you, “this is John. John, this is Y/N. Now that you two are introduced, can you please talk to each other so we don’t have to listen to John go on and on about you every minutes he gets.” You stood stunned as Anthony–or John as you should now think of him–glared at Angelica.

Maria stood very still behind you, and it suddenly occurred to you this was probably the closest she had ever been to her longtime crush. You imagined Maria was trying to hide shyly behind you, but Angelica noticed and addressed her.

“Hey, you’re Maria right?” Angelica asked, her eyes softened. It was a version of a tone both you and Maria had come to expect from people at your school. It was tone to suggest she was asking more than her name, but also questions like: Aren’t you the girl James Reynolds was dating and beat the shit out of? Is it true he beat you because he found out you were gay? Are you gay?

Generally, they were horrible questions people shouldn’t ask, but wanted to know the answers to anyway. And they came in a tone you both despised. But Angelica’s tone had one last question added to it: Where is James right now so I can go beat the shit out of him? And that one last question changed everything Maria hated about the tone.

“Yeah,” she answered softly, with a pointed look to Angelica. And you knew what she was doing. All the late night phone calls with Maria trying to decipher whether or not Angelica was gay was about to be solved.

With a small coy smile, Angelica reached out for Maria’s hand and tugged her. “Let’s leave these two alone,” she commented softly as she led Maria away beaming.

And then it was just you and John.

John shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Um, what she said about me talking about you all the time, that’s not really true, because if it was, I would be creepy, and I promise I’m not creepy.” He stopped talking like he realized he was rambling, and you smirked.

“So,” you started, trying to find the words to ask what you wanted to ask, “you talk about me because…” You trailed off, not sure of where to go with the sentence.

“I like you,” John stated shyly. Your whole body warmed up as you didn’t know what to say. Then you shook your head.

“I’m not someone you want to like. You’ll get jeered at because I look-”

“Adorable?” John filled in. And your face heated up quickly again.

You shook your head with a small smile. “You think I look adorable?” John laughed.

“Well, I was going to say amazing, but that felt like I was coming on too strong, and I think I overcompensated,” he said, trying to laugh through the awkwardness you were sure he was feeling. But you laughed genuinely because you were happy. You had never had someone be this honest with you in a good way. “But honestly I’ll probably fight anyone who tries to hurt you,” he said solemnly. You could tell he was uncomfortable admitting that, but you could also tell he was compelled to tell you. Like he felt some connection between the two of you and knew this was something.

You had never felt that with anyone before. But you wanted to.

“Do you-” you started to ask impulsively, but then stopped when you thought about what you were about to ask. But John looked at you expectantly and you felt compelled to finish asking. “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

John’s eyes lit up and you felt like you were floating. “Yes! There’s a bowling alley my uncle owns in my town. Bowling’s free for family. Wanna do next weekend?”

Your head was buzzing that he had accepted and you were barely able to concentrate on his words. “Yeah, next weekend,” you confirmed with a smile. “Can I get your number?” you asked, pulling out your phone. John eagerly took it and entered his contact information. Then you heard his friends call out from behind you.

“John, we’re leaving!” they cried, and John smiled at you, handed back your phone, and quickly made his way back to his friends who high fived him. You smiled as you watched him leave and then turned to see you and Maria were the only two left in the auditorium. Maria looked shocked as you walked towards her.

“Angelica asked me out,” she admitted stunned. Then her eyes flicked to yours frantically. “Angelica asked me out. And gave me her number. Angelica’s number is in my phone right now.” You laughed and hugged Maria tightly.

“John and I are going bowling next weekend,” you stated, and Maria pulled away from you excitedly.

She shook her head in disbelief. “What happened to us today?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I think we should go to middle school musicals more often.”


	10. No One's a Stranger at a Ball: Angelica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You keep your nightlife personal world separate from your father's political sphere... at least you try to.
> 
> Angelica x Female Reader

Growing up with a politically powerful father seldom had it’s perks. There were housewarming events, tea parties, and your least favorite: balls. When you were younger, attending your first balls, you always stared in wonder at all the beautiful gowns and ladies dancing about the room. Your father always told you someday that would be you, and you would find a suitor higher in statute than you to marry and be happy with.

As you grew older and older, you realized how much that was something you did not particularly want. And soon, balls became but a mere inconvenience in your life.

But the ball your father was hosting tonight (as he stressed to you over and over again) was more than just a typical ball. Tonight he had to secure relations with another powerful political figure–Philip Schuyler–before the country decided to enter into war. If this partnership worked out, Philip would become a very influential figure in your father’s plans and a regular visitor around the household. As your father’s number one trusted advisor on all things political, he wished you to be at his side when the meeting ensued.

You somberly watched ball attendees straggle in through the doors as the sun began to set across the evening sky. Your corset dug into your ribs and the fullness of your gown prevented you from moving much farther than a couple steps from your father as you waited for the arrival of the honored guest.

“Do you think he’ll bring any of his children with him?” your best friend Charlotte asked, not being shy about the fact she was bored having to stand by and entertain you as your father engaged with other guests. “I hear his sons are quite pleasant to lay eyes on.”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk at Charlotte’s slumped and ungracious figure leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “He isn’t coming to find brides for his sons. He’s far too well off for that, as well as I can tell,” you observed with a sigh. “This is a political meeting for him and my father.”

Charlotte pushed herself up from the wall with a disgruntled look on her face, mumbling something that sounded like “all your father does is bore me”. With the tiniest laugh you ignored her comment as she began to actually speak to you. “Well, I hear his daughter Angelica never leaves his side when it comes to politics. She’s like another you.” She spoke the words with disgust, but you knew it was only because Charlotte never found a single fraction of politics interesting.

You sighed, and deciding to try and lift Charlotte’s spirit a bit, you said, “Well, then, if Angelica is coming, maybe so are the rest of his children.” You flashed her an annoyingly brilliant smile that you knew would get under skin.

With a glare, she stated, “I’m not going to take my chances. There are plenty of gentlemen out there waiting for me.” The end of her statement came off with an air of importance, to which you supplied a stifled giggle. With an increased glare, she stared you down for mere seconds before you both erupted in laughter.

When the jovial mood mellowed out between the two of you, Charlotte sighed and gave you a pitying smile. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just…” She motioned back to the ball and followed it with a longing glance.

“Go,” you say commandingly, a smile alight your face. “Do not let me impose upon your merriment for the evening. I am more than capable of waiting by myself.” And with a grateful smile, Charlotte eagerly turned to join the now almost full ballroom in search of a partner for the next dance.

You watch her go with an endearing smile, knowing she will easily find a partner in mere minutes due to her exhilarating beauty both in and out. But then you were left to survey how detached from the party you were. Glancing over at your father, he was still discussing the recent events in Boston with a fellow graduate from the King’s College.

Only a few minutes later, however, a man you had never seen before approached your father. They exchanged a few words and then eagerly shook hands. You noticed a woman standing right behind the man you assumed was Philip Schuyler, but you couldn’t quite get a clear view of her. As you careened you neck in effort, your father suddenly motioned towards you and signaled for you to approach him, to which you quickly responded and made your way towards the newfound political partnership.

“Ah, my shining star,” your father greeted you warmly as you approached, wrapping an arm around him and he doing likewise. The two of you always made clear to your father’s acquaintances that you were a team. The reactions to this always varied, but you were pleased to notice Philip Schuyler’s slight smile and look of approval on the father/daughter duo. “Philip, this is my daughter and partner, Y/N.”

With his smile now wide, he eagerly grabbed your hand you held out for him with both of his hands and shook it enthusiastically. “It is so nice to meet you, Y/N. And it is so nice to meet another man who’s wise enough to take advice from his daughter,” Philip said with a chuckle, now directing his statement towards your father. You look up beaming at your father, who seemed to stand a bit straighter at the compliment, which he graciously accepted.

“I, too, do not conduct any of my business without the brilliant insight of my daughter,” Philip continued, motioning to the female figure behind him. Noticing her cue, she slipped out from behind her father’s back and grabbed hold of his arm. Your breathing ceased.

When her eyes met yours, you both did your best to not tense your bodies so that your fathers wouldn’t notice.

“This is my beautiful daughter Angelica,” Philip announced, beaming proudly at his offspring.

Your father reached out his hand to shake hers, but her action upon his was slightly delayed for she was looking for answers within your eyes. You felt your skin crawl as you examined each other while your fathers stood blindly to the side. As you watched her break eye contact and force a smile towards your father as she shook his hand, your stomach churned so fast you were convinced it would break the bonds of your corset.

“Philip,” your father declared jovially, breaking you from your thoughts, “May I implore you to come get a drink with me?” With a nod of the head, Philip quickly agreed, but then looked back at Angelica with concern.

With a slight laugh, she pushed her father away slightly. “I’ll be fine,” she struggled to get out. “I’m sure Y/N and I will have plenty to talk about.” Satisfied with her answer, Philip seemed set to go.

Your father quickly kissed your temple and whispered “play nice” before he headed off into the sea of people with Philip, leaving you alone with Angelica Schuyler. You both tried to avoid looking at each other for a long while by rather silently observing the party. You noticed Charlotte out on the dance floor seemingly having the time of her life. You almost wished you were out there with her.

Instead you were here. Struggling to breathe. With a clenched fist full of an unwanted dress. Watching a loud and exuberant ball. And standing next to probably the worst person you could be standing next to.

When you finally couldn’t avoid each other any longer, you quickly grabbed Angelica’s hand with no warning and whisked her out of the ballroom into a hallway. She remained silent and without protest, and it was as if you felt both of your hearts racing a million miles per minute. Your hand felt like it was on fire in hers, but you pressed on down the hallway, made a right, and then reached a room that was completely darkened. Silently, you dropped her hand and left her standing in the middle of the room alone while you crossed it to draw back the curtains. When the moon began shining through to give a little light into the room, you heaved a sigh and slowly turned back towards her.

Angelica uncomfortably shifted feet in her gown. But she was the first one to break the silence.

“I thought your name was Marjorie,” she said quietly, searching your face in the moonlight. Much like the first time you met.

A large clump in your throat almost prevented you from speaking, but you managed to say, “You understand why I lied, don’t you Gwen?” She silently nodded her head.

Gwen–or Angelica as you supposed you now had to think of her–buried her head in her hands for a few moments before she slowly started letting a hearty laugh take over her body. After observing her outburst for a few seconds, you soon found yourself incapable from preventing yourself from producing the same laughter.

“I just can’t believe,” Angelica started, after she calmed herself a bit, “that after all this time, I run into you here. And I’ve imagined this several different ways. But never here.”

With a pained smile and a shake of your head, you look at her and said, “Months of sneaking out and meeting downtown, and you just walk through my father’s door and shake his hand.” With your remark, you both again began laughing violently, but this time moving closer until you were both enveloped in a hug.

You felt her chin resting on your right shoulder move through the giggles as she said “I’ve missed you”. You both ceased laughing almost immediately and hold on to each other tighter, understanding how important every moment was together.

Burying your head into her neck, you responded, “I’ve missed you too.” Her perfume smelled familiar and fleeting at the same time. You wished you could just freeze in this moment and never move or let time slip by.

But after holding the embrace for a few moments, you both eventually moved away from each other slightly, still allowing your hands to rest on each other’s waists. She stared intently in your eyes and began to subconsciously lean her head forward. Your hands snaked up from her waist, skimmed across the whole of her torso, fleeted across her neck and reached the roots of her hair just as her lips connected with yours.

With her, there was always fire in every touch. Her hands pulled your waist as close to her as your dresses would allow, while your fingers firmly dug into her beautiful black hair and scalp. Her soft lips tantalized you and her teeth quickly nipped your bottom lip as you gasped and pulled her head down, forcing her into the kiss again.

When you both stopped to breathe, her arms were wrapped securely around your waist and your hands had found a new home in the back caress of her neck. You could feel her breathing on you, and opened your eyes to stare into hers.

With another small chuckle, Angelica pressed her forehead against yours and whispered, “I am so glad I get to see you more often now.”


	11. The Patriot Girl: Eliza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you were nine, you tried to run away. Part of you wishes you would have kept running with you met the Patriot girl with the raven hair. But most of you is glad you stayed.
> 
> Eliza x Female Reader

When you were nine years old, you ran away.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a very well planned escape, you only made it a couple blocks, and you were punished severely when your father located you, but never did you regret running. For you had ran to the one place you knew you could hide: the park.

And there you met Miss Elizabeth Schuyler for the first time.

“Are you hiding?” a pale girl with long dark hair asked you innocently. Your eyes shot daggers at her, as you were still in a sour mood, but she kept looking at you with those wide eyes that you eventually sighed and rested your half formed flower crown on your crossed legs.

“Yes,” you said pointedly, crossing your arms. But to your dismay, the girl’s face lit up.

Her hands clasped together excitedly. “Is it a game? Can I play? My sister Angelica doesn’t let me play games with her, and Peggy just hides in the same spot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the girl angrily. “It’s not a game. I ran away,” you huffed, annoyed.

At this, the girl formed a small ‘o’ with her mouth and her eyes became wider. Then before you could protest, she sat beside you and looked at you intently. “Why did you run away?” she asked sincerely.

You didn’t want to answer her, but something in her eyes convinced you to. You averted your eyes back down to your flower crown and began fiddling with it with your fingers. “My brother,” you finally mumbled.

The girl put a comforting hand on yours and looked into your eyes with empathy. “My little brothers drive me insane too.”

You threw your hands up in the air, startling her. “But I don’t have any little brothers,” you all but screamed. Except this time, your voice wasn’t angry, it was just upset. “I have one big brother, and he’s marrying the worst girl ever. She doesn’t even talk to me or play with me, and now he’s stopped playing with me too and he’s my best friend and I can’t- I can’t-”

You stopped talking to cry, burying your face in your hands. Warm arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders, and you and this girl stayed like this for some time.

When you finally stopped crying and looked up at her, you had the sudden urge to laugh. She gave a hesitant smile at your giggles, before she too joined in.

“I’m Y/N,” you said quietly.

She beamed. “Elizabeth, but I like Eliza better.” With a small smile, you nodded, but she became concerned again. “Your brother is being really unkind,” she said sympathetically. Your smile faltered, and your face became pained. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off.

“Eliza, darling, it’s time to return home.”

The deep voice came from above you, and you looked up at the man with a soft smile set upon his face. You noticed your new friend’s face glow as she looked upon the man.

“Okay, papa,” she responded pushing herself off the ground, and standing to grab ahold of his hand. She looked down at you with a bright smile. “I hope everything turns out okay. I’ll see you around-”

“Y/N!”

Both Eliza and her father turned sharply to look at the source of the voice, but you merely froze and looked upon your new companion worriedly. There was clear anger pronounced in your name, and soon enough, a strong hand roughly grabbed your forearm and yanked you upwards to a standing position. You yelped and cowered before your father.

“What the hell were you thinking,” he declared angrily. You flinched. You glanced over at Eliza, and her father–who now possessed a stone cold face–held her back from coming to you.

You watched as he slowly tried to drag Eliza away before he finally said quietly, “Eliza, it’s time to go.”

Your father, upon hearing him, turned to look at your company. Somehow, his expression became angrier than before, but he was still able to place the look Eliza was giving you.

His voice was eerily calm, unlike before, but it held a far more frightening anger. “Y/N, you are never to see this girl again.”

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to protest, but Eliza beat you to it. “Sir, she’s my friend!” she called out.

But instead of addressing her, your father looked down to address you. “We do not become friends with Patriot scum,” he commanded, and then began pulling you away. Your body became limp as he tugged you away. It couldn’t be true, could it? Eliza seemed so nice and so–not like the Patriots your father had described.

But as you looked back at her, she seemed stunned, and was gently moved by her father. You averted your eyes from her and slowly returned home with your father, watching your feet as you walked.

For the next week, you were kept under close watch by your entire family, so you mostly just sat in your room and pondered the subject of your not-so-but-maybe friend Eliza. Because even though you knew you were supposed to hate her, she was the nicest person you had ever met. And part of you was hoping you would meet her again.

About three weeks after your incident, your brother and his fiancee made plans for a walk in the park, and you had to beg for a whole hour to convince your brother to convince your father you should be allowed to come along.

You watched carefully as the three of you walked around the park, but it paid off. Eventually, long black hair caught your eye. Your face brightened immediately.

“Richard, may I please go talk to my friend,” you begged, pointing towards Eliza. Your brother sighed, but eventually relented, much to his fiancee’s dismay. But you couldn’t care about her as you were sprinting away.

“Eliza!” you called out, waving your hand. She turned confused, but also placed a smile on her face when she saw you. But then her eyebrows furrowed.

“Won’t your father be angry if you talk to me?” She tried to ask politely, but you could tell her feelings were hurt from your last encounter.

You shot her a mischievous grin to make her feel a little better. “He won’t be if he doesn’t find out,” you said confidently. Slowly, a grin spread across Eliza’s face as if she were trusted with a big secret.

And your father didn’t find out. Not even after seven years of conveniently walking to the park at the same time as your favorite Schuyler sister.

Your favorite days were Mondays and Thursdays. These were your night walks, when you and Eliza were free to roam the park in the darkness of your own accord without anyone around. These were the times you were brave enough to hold hands instead of arms.

“Oh I wish I could see him!” Eliza exclaimed squeezing your hand. You giggled at her expression and she scrunched her nose playfully in response.

The “him” in question was your one year old nephew who had just begun to toddle around on his feet. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of walking yet, but you knew it would be mere weeks before he had mastered the craft, just as his two older sisters had.

Eliza let out a peaceful sigh, and you reveled in the warmth of her fingers between yours. “How long is your brother in town?” she asked curiously. You tensed slightly but let it go.

It still partially upset you Richard’s wife had convinced him to move up to Massachusetts, but you refused to be upset during his few weeks he had at home. “Another week,” you sighed. He never stayed long enough.

“I can’t imagine Angelica being so far away from me all the time,” she commented absentmindedly. You gently squeezed her hand in comfort, as if to say Angelica would never leave her. Richard and you had been close, but he was ten years your elder and practically raised you. Angelica was one of Eliza’s closest friends.

You, however–you were her best friend.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. Both of you feared to dwell on it, though. For if you confessed you were best friends, you might not be able to control the other unspoken but obvious feelings that haunted you every time you left each other’s sides. So instead you both kept the conversation turning without ever going in that direction. Neither of you needed a vocal confirmation.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was getting harder and harder for you to remain passive when you were with her. Every day you were in society with girls who were confessing their feelings for Loyalist soldiers. But you only had eyes for a certain Patriot.

“Y/N?” Eliza asked concerned, and your eyes shot back to her, recovering from your trance with a blush. She giggled and your heart fluttered, but you swallowed thickly and kept a neutral face. “I asked if you thought your father would consider attending the Lincolnfield’s ball this Saturday?” Her eyes looked at you with such hope that you almost lied to her to keep that look in her eyes.

But instead you grimaced. “There’ll be Patriots there,” you stated simply, averting your eyes to the ground.

“Yes, but many Loyalist families are coming. You wouldn’t be the only one-”

“My father isn’t just some Loyalist. He has a reputation. He’s high in the King’s favor. You will never see our family at a ball with Patriots.” You both walked a couple steps in dismayed silence before you added, “I’m sorry, Eliza.”

She stopped and gave you a soft sigh and understanding smile, though you could still see the disappointment behind her eyes. “It’s okay. I knew that,” she replied tiredly.

You were both still stopped on the path and the sound of her breathing so close to you overwhelmed your senses. She went to take a step and begin walking again, but you tightened your grip on her hand and clenched your eyes shut. You could still feel her wide wondering eyes.

Without looking at her, you allowed yourself a moment of impulse. “Why do you want to see me at a ball so badly?”

The question hung in the air, and you slowly opened your eyes to a very uncomfortable Eliza. You knew what you were doing and you didn’t know why you were doing it. As soon as you saw the expression on Eliza’s face, you knew: you were addressing the unaddressable.

You should have apologized. You should have pulled her along the path to keep walking and ignore it. You should have done anything besides what you did do next.

Because you allowed yourself another moment of impulse.

Like gravity tugging on you, you pressed your lips against hers. She made a muffled sound, but you didn’t have enough space in your mind to process it. Your thoughts were filled instead with sensory bliss. Her soft lips pushing forcefully back against yours. Her hand still tightly squeezing yours and her free hand snaking around your back and pulling your body as tightly as she could against hers. Your free hand found its resting space in the crook of her neck as you melted into the kiss.

And then it was over.

You both pulled back from each other, breathing heavily. You registered the fear in her eyes, and acknowledged there was probably a good amount in yours too. Silently, you both took a step back from each other and untangled your hands. And then wordlessly, you turned to the direction of your house and walked home, feeling slightly lightheaded.

It wasn’t until you walked into your house you noticed the streams running down your face.

“Y/N?” Richard asked concerned. He was always the only one up at this late hour. “Are you alright?” He immediately sounded defensive, and like the protective brother you grew up loving. But you couldn’t explain this to him. So instead you noiselessly crossed the room and threw your arms around him, burying your head in his chest and sobbing.

Eventually, he walked you upstairs and put you to bed. But somehow he knew not to ask you anymore questions. And even as he carefully watched you the next day as you nervously wrung your hands and waited for your four o’clock walk to roll around, he respectfully acknowledged your silence.

When you walked to the park that day, your legs felt like mush. Your stomach flipped inside out as your whole body shook. Something in you was convinced she wouldn’t come. Ever again.

You wanted to break down in despair at the thought.

But to your utter surprise, she was there waiting. With a pleasant smile painted on her face, though you could tell it was forced. You managed to plaster a small nervous smile on your face as you took her arm.

As you both began walking, Eliza started in on a story about Peggy, but you could hardly listen. You had to talk to her about the previous night.

“No you don’t,” Eliza stated simply, a pointed look in her eyes. You searched her eyes confused when you realized you had been thinking outloud. “We don’t have to talk about it. It happened. I think we both know how we feel about it, but we both also understand the circumstance. So we move on,” she stated calmly, but you knew there was an edge of heartbreak in her words.

“But-”

She shook her head forcefully and angrily. “Y/N I refuse to lose you as a friend because we tried to fight what we know cannot happen. Can you move on?” she demanded. Tears shone behind her eyes and you blinked, looking at her with despair.

But she was right. She was always right.

So clenching your teeth so as to cease your quivering lip, you nodded shortly. “Yes,” you said softly. Eliza nodded in approval and then continued with her story, and you tried your best to focus, but it was just so damn hard.

You convinced yourself it would just take practice and time to move on. And you were correct. You both moved on. You stayed best friends. And the subject was never brought up.

Until four years later.

“Eliza?” you asked softly. It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon, but it was still winter. Your walks only lasted an hour in the freezing weather, and it was getting near the end of the walk, but you could tell something was off in your best friend. She had barely spoken all day. You had noticed it yesterday too, but today you couldn’t hold back your curiosity.

She looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but before you could register it, she quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you to the nearest bench. “Y/N, I have to tell you something,” she admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact. Your heart began to thud in your chest, but you ignored it, determined to keep a light expression on your face. You knew this day would come eventually. It was foolish to be disappointed.

You lightly grabbed her hands and squeezed them softly, and whispered, “You can tell me anything.”

Eliza grimaced and laughed sarcastically at herself. Then with a sigh, she finally looked you in the eye. “I met someone,” she confessed. “At the ball this past weekend. His name is Alexander. We’ve started a correspondence. I think- I think he’s serious about me, and I’m- I don’t know.” She shook her head and placed it in her hands. Your arms wrapped around her, just as she had done for you years ago, as you fought viciously to prevent your tears from revealing themselves. This was always going to happen, you reminded yourself.

After a few moments, she brought her head up, and you rested yours on her shoulder. You both sat in silence before you were finally brave enough to speak.

“Do you love him?” Your eyes looked up at her curiously, and you tried to hide the hurt you knew she could see anyways.

Her expression looked as if you had asked her an impossible and unanswerable question. You sighed. “It’s the closest I’ll come, I’m afraid,” she whispered, and you wished you could take the sadness out of her eyes. You wished you could just take it all for yourself. And she could go be happy with this Alexander. Or better yet, you wished you could take her for yourself, but that was impossible. So you knew what you needed to say because you needed her to be happy.

“Court him,” you stated. Her eyes widened in confusion, and you sat up and took her hands again. “Eliza, court him. Fall in love, for real. Live a happy life. Stop living in our pretend world where Patriots and Loyalists get along. Go be content with Alexander.”

Each tear you saw streak down her pained face was another dagger in your chest, but you knew it was what she needed to hear. Move on she had told you all those years ago. But neither of you had. You just ignored where you were, and it was time to push her. Even if it meant pushing her away from you.

She struggled to form words. “But you-”

You quickly shook your head and forced a smile through your tears. “Oh Eliza,” you said softly, stroking her cheek gently with your hand. “You were never mine.”

And so upon your instruction, Eliza continued to write Mister Alexander Hamilton every week. And she continued to walk with you every day. And for the first time since the beginning of your friendship, the two of you felt your expiration date slowly creeping up on you.

A couple months into Eliza’s relationship with Alexander, you sat alone on a park bench, waiting for her arrival in the darkness of the Thursday night. She was late, and you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was incredibly out of character for her to be so.

But eventually, she did come, and you stood to greet her, but you didn’t receive a chance.

She flew to you, and you briefly registered she was crying before her lips slammed into yours. You quickly dug your fingers into her hair as her hands roamed your chest. An instinctive moan escaped your lips as her warm tongue slipped into your mouth. Slowly, she snake her hands around to your back and pulled you flush up against her.

Your breath caught as she pulled your hair from behind, disjoining her lips from yours and providing more access to your neck. You shuddered and bit your lip as you felt her soft lips trail down your jaw to your neck. A soft “Eliza” was whimpered from your lips, and you felt her smile into your neck before pulling away and releasing your hair.

Your hands found their way to the curves of her hips, and you held her there, as you once again gently kissed her. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, and you weren’t sure whose tears had found a home on your cheeks.

When she pulled away this time, you kissed her forehead and felt her shuddered in your arms. She met your eyes with suppressed depression and she softly stroked your hair. You refrained from breaking down right then and there.

“I just needed to do that once,” she whispered. “You got to all those years ago, and I just…” She trailed off, and without a second glance, you watched her break away from you and leave with your heart.

The next day it was announced Eliza was engaged to Alexander. You didn’t leave the house. You knew she wouldn’t be there to walk. You had both finally hit your end date and you knew it.

Part of you hoped to be invited to the wedding. But you felt relieved when the wedding came and passed and no word of it was brought to your attention. In those darks months after your last night together, you tried to remain as normal as possible around the household, so as to not incur too many questions. The days, weeks, and months passed silently. And it seemed like no one noticed you crawling further into yourself with each passing moment.

But when your brother Richard visited the following year, he noticed straight away. “You’re more serious than I last remember you, Y/N,” he commented one evening while the two of you were alone in the study.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and considered his words. “Yes, I suppose I am,” you commented softly, closing the book you had in your hands. He silently studied you for a long while.

“I saw she got married,” he said carefully. Your eyes shot up to him in alarm. How did he- “I wondered why you always insisted on walking in the park alone so I followed you once several years ago. She was the Patriot girl you befriended and father was furious about when you ran away, right? Elizabeth Schuyler?”

You swallowed thickly. You hadn’t heard her name in almost a year. “Why didn’t you say anything to father?” you asked numbly.

Richard shrugged his shoulders and looked at you pointedly. “I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Your cheeks immediately began to heat up. As you tried to find a defense for yourself, he gave you a pitiful smile. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N,” he said quietly. “Falling in love isn’t a crime or a sin, but tread carefully: what you do after may be considered one.” And then he stood up and exited the room, leaving you unmoving and trying to process the information.

The next day, a letter came for you from an undisclosed address. Curiously, you opened the letter and froze.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there until Richard found you in the foyer staring frightened at the piece of paper. He gently removed the page from your possession and quickly skimmed it, his eyebrows furrowing more and more the deeper he got.

Finally, he sighed. “Are you going?” he asked simply. You looked at him with fear.

“I can’t, can I?” you asked distressed. “If Father finds out-”

Richard shook his head. “I’ll take care of him, if you want to go. I can’t say I advise it, but-”

“I’ll go,” you stated immediately. You knew it was going to be painful, and you were going to regret it. But she had invited you.

Richard looked at you with a grim expression and sighed. “Be careful, Y/N. I can’t help you much past a certain point,” he warned. Your cheeks flushed with heat stemming partially from anger. But it was quickly soothed when your brother called for the carriage and presented an excuse to your father for its use.

An hour later, your carriage pulled up to the Hamilton estate, and you were met immediately by your favorite face in the whole world.

“You came!” Eliza cried out, partially surprised. She embraced you in a hug as soon as your foot hit the pavement.

You offered her a shy smile, and she quickly grabbed your hand and led you inside. Once in the house, you were greeted again by a scruffy looking man with long disheveled hair.

Alexander.

He gave you a genuine smile and shook your hand, and it felt like a weight off your chest. He had no idea who you were.

“It’s so nice to meet you Miss-”

He trailed off and waited for you to fill in your name, and without speaking, you responded, “L/N.”

Alexander’s hand froze mid-shake and his eyes became icy. Your body stiffened, realizing your mistake. “L/N as in the dirty Loyalists that-”

“Alexander,” Eliza cut him off sharply, her eyes like daggers. “Y/N is my guest and she is welcome in our home. You will keep your politics out of my friendships or you’re no better than my father.” Alexander considered Eliza carefully, and you got the feeling this was the first time she had spoken sharply with him.

Eventually, however, he relented and invited you into his house, with a sour look on his face. You began to feel increasingly more uncomfortable.

Eliza sat the two of you down in the drawing room and left to go prepare tea. You sat visibly nervous in the seat opposite of Alexander, trying not to waver too much under his suspicious eye.

“So who are you?” he finally demanded, and you were taken off guard.

You shifted, and stuttered, “I’m Y/N-”

Alexander shook his head annoyed. “No, I mean, who are you to my wife?”

Your blood froze and you tried not to show your despair on your face. This isn’t the conversation you wanted to have with Eliza’s husband.

You fiddled with your fingers and avoided his gaze for a few moments, which you could tell angered him. You heard him intake another breath as if to start speaking again, but you quietly cut him off.

“Are the rumors true?” you mumbled, still not meeting his eye.

You glanced up at Alexander and his eyebrows were furrowed. “What?”

You took a deep breath, and looked him straight in the eye. “The rumors. Are they true?” He shook his head as if he didn’t understand, so you elaborated further. “The rumors,” you started uncomfortably, “about you and John Laurens being-”

At this, Alexander stood forcibly from his chair, cutting you off. The anger in his eyes caused you to cower. “How dare you come into my home, and insinuate that the rumors involving me and John Laurens are to be trifled with by anyone, let alone some Loyalist scum,” he angrily declared. “I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Your breaths became shorter as you looked upon Alexander with tears in your eyes. You sat silently for a few moments, with Alexander’s eyes still raging at you, waiting for you to get up in leave. But instead, you stayed in your seat.

“You asked who I was,” you explained meekly, yearning to break down in tears. His eyes revealed a hint of confusion within his anger. “I’m your wife’s John Laurens,” you finished lamely, and went back to avoiding his eye contact by watching your hands fidget. You heard him silent thump back into the seat across from you.

When you glanced up at him, he was staring at you with a mixed range of emotions, but the general tone that was coming across was more disbelief than anger, and you relaxed slightly.

Finally he took a sharp inhale of breath. “So you and Eliza were-”

“Alright, the tea is ready,” Eliza announced, coming into the room brightly with a smile on her face. This was your first time seeing Eliza in a domestic setting, and your heart fluttered at the thought. You gave her a weak smile, and she returned a shy one as she set down the tray and began pouring.

Your eyes accidentally met Alexander’s and your cheeks immediately flushed with shame. But to your surprise, he gave you an empathetic smile and began a conversation with you on your family. Eliza too seemed surprised by his willingness to embrace you, but accepted it without question and sat down to enjoy the afternoon with the two of you.

As you stood up to leave, Eliza quickly ran out of the room calling back about some type of pastry she wanted you to bring home with you. Alexander stood up with you and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Will you be visiting us again?” he asked. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you were more worried about the crushing feeling in your chest at the thought of leaving her again. He recognized your panic and smiled sadly.

For some reason, you felt like you were in the position to ask Alexander for advice. “Does it get easier?” you inquired, hoping he said yes, but already knowing the answer.

He shook his head sadly. “But it does get a little better,” he offered, knowing it wouldn’t help much.

“Is it worth it?” you asked desperately, wanting him to say no. Wanting him to tell you to go home and never think about his wife again.

He gave you a long look and then sighed. “It’s better than nothing,” he admitted. You pressed your lips together and turned your attention to Eliza as she walked back in the room. Alexander made up some excuse to leave the two of you alone, and you were left once again to say goodbye.

For the first time all day, Eliza behaved incredibly uncomfortable around you.

“Alexander is wonderful,” you offered, but the look she gave you informed you that this was the wrong thing to say.

Suddenly, she grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes desperately. “Y/N, I can’t convey to you the amount of regret I bear leaving you as I did,” she confessed. “I-I’m honestly surprised you came today. I’m glad you did.”

You swallowed thickly and forced a thin smile on your face. Your hand fondly caressed her beautiful black hair and she instinctively leaned into your touch. You felt her hand grasp your upper arm lightly as she leaned in, and you met her halfway. For the first time when your lips met, you felt a calm take over your body. It was simple and sweet, and was over quickly, but still held the promise of tomorrow.

“Goodbye, Eliza,” you whispered with a hint of a smile. She flashed you a smile back as you turned to leave her estate.

And for the first time in a year, you allowed yourself to dwell on the girl you loved, a smile apparent on your face the whole way home.


	12. The Memories You Don't Remember: Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it feels like your life is held together by memories with your best friend's younger sister: the girl you love.
> 
> Peggy x Female Reader

“And then,” Eliza yelled from across the room, eyes wide and and cheeks flushed with excitement, “this whole wall will just be covered in beautiful candles.” She flung her arms in the air for emphasis as a brilliant smile encaptured her face.

She stared at you expectantly, and you knew to be a good friend you should have faked some sort of enthusiasm for Eliza. An encouraging smile or an “I love it”. Instead, your natural reaction took over and you tried your best to reign in the giggles forming in your chest at the sight of your best friend running around a room, flinging her arms in the air, and screaming about candles.

Your attempt failed.

What started as a sincere smile quickly morphed into painful laughter, as you used your entire body to try and hide your response. Eliza, however, had been your friend far too long to buy any part of it.

Her face suddenly turned very serious when she asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

The answer exploded from your mouth as you doubled over in hysterics. You heard Eliza’s footsteps coming towards you, but you didn’t have the will to run the other way. Tears were now forming in your eyes as she said, “I cannot believe you are laughing at me!” She tried her best to sound angry, but you could hear the endearing smile in her voice. When you looked up, your suspicions were confirmed with a giggling Eliza standing before you.

Regaining control of your laughter, yet still smiling brightly, you took a deep breath and opened your arms to Eliza, to which she gratefully responded by enclosing you in a hug. “Oh, dear Eliza. I shall always laugh at you when you’re being ridiculous,” you say playfully.

Breaking the embrace, pulled back from the hug and scrunched her nose at you. “I don’t think I could expect anything else, dear Y/N,” she responded with the same playfully endearing tone.

She took your arm as you turned to exit the building. A sigh escaped your lips as you wistfully imagined the room exactly as Eliza just described it to you. It would be perfect; a sentiment she deserved more than anyone in this world.

As you exited the building, you both squint into the bright sunlight of the outside world. “Your wedding really is going to be breathtaking, Eliza. Alexander is a lucky man.” As you say these words, your hand grabs and squeezes Eliza’s, in which she returned the squeeze. Just at the mention of her lover’s name, her body tensed in excitement, as if all of her love and anticipation were being coiled tightly into her tiny body, ready to release at any moment. An endearing smile formed on your lips. If all love were as simple as Eliza’s and Alexander’s, the world would be a far happier place.

Your duo remained attached by the arm until you reached Eliza’s house for the next week, where in which Eliza abandoned your side to walk up the footpath to the door ahead of you. The click of her shoes against the property’s cobblestone sounded itself like home to you. You feel a faint warm smile on your lips as you recalled the early years of your friendship with the Schuyler sisters, racing up and down this very path with no care for the world and its views.

As Eliza comfortably swung the door open, she called back to you, “Angelica’s out at the store. I think she wanted me to think she’s getting my wedding gift.” A chuckle followed the statement at how preposterous it sounded. Angelica represented the world’s most organized and prepared citizen. Never would she wait so long to buy her sister’s gift. You on the other hand gave a stiff laugh at the joke, remembering the still empty box you meant to fill with your gift for Eliza sitting on the floor of your room.

As you stepped through the entry of the house, you noticed the unusual quietness about the place. “And Peggy?” you asked curiously, though your heart still gave its telltale momentary pause at the mention of her. As mentioned before, if all love was as simple as Alexander’s and Eliza’s, it would at least save you the trouble of unrequited love.

“I’m assuming with Angelica,” she replied nonchalantly, walking around the sitting room collecting things to put away. “She’s been kind of distant lately,” Eliza continued to say as she paused and pondered something while looking into the distance. Suddenly, she looked back to you, “You don’t think it’s because of the wedding, do you?”

The sheer panic and distress that suddenly enveloped Eliza’s face was almost enough to make you regret promising Peggy not to disclose to her sisters the events of two months ago. Instead, you had to assure Eliza Peggy was absolutely fine on your own.

“Eliza, I’m convinced Peggy isn’t distant because of your wedding. She would have told you, for you and your sisters are always honest with one another.” A lump formed in your throat when you noticed Eliza visibly relax from the encouragement of your words. While Peggy distressed you to no end, you defiantly fought off the tears forming in your eyes, for you could never confess to Eliza Peggy’s secrets or your’s. And the only thing that pained you more than Peggy was not being able to confide in Eliza.

Noticing your change in mood, Eliza implored if you were okay.

“Yes, of course,” you stated, returning to your jovial state of being. “I just noticed the sun’s attempting to leave the sky and realized I really should be heading home.” You deny her offer of a carriage and quickly set out into the nearing sunset for your near forty minute walk home. You needed time to think.

The first words that entered your mind on your solitary walk were “I didn’t accept”. The tears built pressure behind your eyes as the vision of Peggy sobbing in your arms while telling you James had proposed to her earlier that evening haunted your thoughts once again. The hopelessness and pleading that illuminated her eyes while she begged you not to tell her sisters about the offer or the decline still debilitated you.

You didn’t like to think of Peggy in her weakest moment. She was the strongest and most fiercely beautiful girl you were privileged enough to watch grow into a woman. You prefered to think of the time you caught a praying mantis as children and scared Angelica with it. The time you gave her private dance lessons for hours so she would be prepared for her first ball. The time she came squealing into Eliza’s room to announce Alexander was downstairs. The time the two of you stayed up all night staring at the stars and pondering everything unknown and undiscovered in the world.

_The time you walked in on her performing one of her own piano compositions, and you fell in love._

It was the simple memories, the good memories, the memories she surely didn’t remember that kept you entangled with the feelings you didn’t particularly want. Sometimes you wished she’d accepted James’ hand, just so you could finally own closure and maybe move on. But no matter how much you told yourself that, you still went to bed each night selfishly thanking every god that may or may not exist for keeping her yours a little longer.

You were three-quarters of the way home with the sun about to descend into the everlasting horizon when you realized you were crying. Annoyed, you stopped and quickly wiped away your pointless tears. Taking a cleansing deep breath, you started to observe your surrounding more clearly. You were stopped in the heart of downtown, an unwise place to be when the sun finally took it’s final bow. Quickly you began walking faster towards your home, ignoring the group of people in the alleyway who were spitting out vulgar words and were very obviously intoxicated.

A laugh rang out from the group, and you froze cold in your spot. Your body began to ice over and your breathing ceased as the laugh continued to paralyze you. The tears formed again in your eyes as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to convince yourself you imagined it. Your hands clenched into painful fists.

Her laugh was your favorite sound in the entire world. And you would recognize it anywhere.

Slowly you turned around and scanned through the group quickly. A shudder ran through your body when your belief was confirmed. In the middle of the dark alley shined a single light: Peggy Schuyler.

“Peggy?”

The word escaped your mouth before you could decide whether or not you wanted to say it. But it was too late, her eyes shot towards the sound of your voice, and you watched as all the color drained from her face. Her acquaintances looked at her bewildered, but your eyes weren’t concerned with them. Peggy and you were at a stand still, staring each other down, waiting for one to break first. To be honest, you couldn’t tell who wore more devastation on their face.

Finally, Peggy whispered “I gotta go” to the people she was with and quickly made her way towards you, now avoiding your eye contact. Your disappointment and confusion in the situation started to morph into fear and anger. It was getting dark and Peggy was downtown alone with a bunch of drunk strangers in an alleyway. How could she be so reckless?

_The time you turned around downtown to find several men gravitating towards her with hunger in their eyes._

As soon as she reached you, Peggy pulled you off to the side of the sidewalk where her alleyway pals couldn’t see her anymore. She opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off, beating her to it.

“Are you insane? What the hell, Peggy.” There was more anger in your voice than you intended, but once it was unleashed, you couldn’t seem to reel it back in. Hot and angry tears started spilling from your eyes as ones of shame in fear spilled from Peggy’s as she dropped her head. “Do Eliza or Angelica know you’re here? Because if they don’t, they should. And I’m going to be the one to tell them, so help me-”

“Please, no!” Peggy began begging, her eyes shooting up to you in a desperate plea. “They’ll never let me out of their sight again. Please, Y/N.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, your heart cracking just a little more with every whimper you heard come from her mouth.

_The time her face and hands became scraped up as she fell trying to chase you in a ballgown._

As calmly as you could manage in the heat of the moment, you stated, “I’m not here to keep secrets from your sisters for you. I’m not some secret confidant you only confide in when desperate and avoiding your sisters.” The words came from your mouth stiffly and harsh despite your attempt to sooth it.

“That’s not at all what you are to me!” Peggy protested, tears still staining her cheeks as she desperately tried to reason with you. “I know it’s not safe out here alone in the dark, but I was about to head home. One of the guys was going to walk me home. I would’ve been fine!”

_The time she clung to your arm as you and the sisters made your way downtown with her for the first time._

You scoffed at her reasoning. “Did you even listen to yourself just there?” You were shaking at the thought of her escort home harming or taking advantage of her in anyway. Why could she not understand the amount of danger she was in? You pressed your hands together and raised them against your head with your eyes closed. You maintained steady breathing until you finally sighed, put your hands back down, and locked your eyes with hers.

“You used to have such good judgement, Peg. What happened?” The anger dissipated from your voice, leaving a betrayed disappointment in its wake. Peggy seemed to almost recoil at your words. Slowly, you noticed the intensity of her breathing increasing, and with every heaved breath, her fist clenched tighter and her jaw set straighter. You made her angry.

She sat staring at you like that for a long while; you waited in anxiety for her answer, whatever it may be. You kept your face neutral, unwilling to betray the extremity of emotions behind your mask.

_The time your heart caved in when she accepted her first invitation to dance at a ball._

“You.” She spat out the word with fire on her tongue. But you couldn’t quite comprehend what she was telling you.

“What?”

She seemed aggravated that she had to explain. “You. You happened. I used to have good judgement, but I’ve slowly lost it because of you.” The look on your face must have communicated to her that you were still confused. “Oh, come on Y/N. The game is up. You can stop pretending now.”

“Pretending what?” you demanded. Her words refused to align themselves in your head.

“That you don’t know I’m in love with you!” Your entire body slackened and you felt the blood drain from your face. What? “That you don’t know I gave up a marriage to James for you. That I avoid my house by sneaking out downtown to drink when I know you’re going to be there. That I fall asleep every night with you on my mind.”

You’re breaths became shallow and the world began to spin violently around you. You shook your head slightly and whispered, “I didn’t know.”

She provided you with a quick glare and a scoff. “Yeah, right.” You knew she wanted to sound angry, but the heartbreak came through as well. You stood numbly as she turned quickly and began to stalk off into the night towards her home. She didn’t turn away from you quickly enough to hide the fresh tears marring her cheeks.

_The time she took you to her favorite cafe and accidentally spilled her tea all over you._

You watched her walk halfway down the street before you snapped into action. Never will you be able to run as fast as you did then.

Sprinting down the street after her, your emotions were a mixture of humor, heartbreak, and everlasting happiness. As soon as you became close enough, you seized her upper arm and dragged her into the alley next to you.

“Hey, what the-”

You didn’t waste time allowing her to form a full thought. Your lips silenced hers quickly with an intense kiss. The kind of kiss that makes your knees weak and allows an involuntary moan to escape. The kind of kiss you had been dreaming of for years.

Memory after memory disconnected and flooded your mind. Holding hands through a thunderstorm. Reading her your favorite book. Playing pranks on the household staff. Your mind filled with her and only her.

As the initial shock of the kiss wore off her, you felt her hands cautiously slip under your arms and up your back, gradually pulling you closer to her. The hand you had gripping her arm quickly dismounted itself and mirrored your other hand on her hips. The heat of her lips burned yours. You both were trying to get as close to each other as possible. Your hands instinctively gravitated upwards until your fingers were running through and clinging to her hair. Upon feeling her gasp at this, you used the break to move your face back towards her ear.

“If I had known,” you whisper solemnly, “I would have done this much sooner.”

She silently responded by tightening her hug and burying her face in you. You held this position for a while, both still in some state of shock that it was even happening at all. Her body heat against yours felt pleasant and almost natural. Like you were always meant to be this close to her. You could smell her lavender perfume she insisted on buying last year at the market and could taste her lips from moments before.

“Are you sure you’re okay with hiding something else from my sisters?” she asked concerned.

But instead of responding, you pulled back from the hug with a small sad smile on your face. She watched you expectantly as you leaned in and kissed her once more.

This time when you pulled back, you looked her dead in the eye and whispered, “Anything for this.”


	13. Loose Lips: Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hola! Can I have a Peggy imagine, college AU, where she asks the reader to stay at her dorm for the night (I can’t think of a reason, but for something ha) reader says yes, and they end up cuddling and being fluffy and being cuties. Then, it turns out that Peggy was just pretending and making an excuse to be with the reader. I hope that makes sense, it’s pretty free and open to make it how you’d like! Thank you so so much!!
> 
> Peggy x Female Reader

“There’s going to be this amazing party Friday you can’t miss. I swear to god, if you don’t come visit me this weekend I will never talk to you again.”

You couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped at Peggy’s idle threat. She had said that last time.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to visit Peggy at her new home–a prestigious college all the way across the state. In fact, that’s what you wanted to do more than anything. However, convincing your parents to allow you to drive that whole way by yourself to see your best friend was a near impossible feat.

“You know my parents won’t let me,” you texted back somberly. But you knew there was another reason you couldn’t go stay over with Peggy, and it was a reason you barely allowed to pass through your mind. Just the thought of a whole weekend with Peggy and only Peggy–walking around campus, going to parties, sleeping in the same room–gave reason for your breath to hitch and your skin to crawl. And it also reminded you why it was in Peggy’s best interest you stayed home. She didn’t need some high school girl fawning over her.

Your eyes flicked back to the screen of your phone as a little speech bubble popped up to indicate Peggy typing two hundred miles away. You held your breath in anticipation, gathering all your defense arguments against what was sure to be a spitfire rant. But instead of all caps, you just received a simple paragraph.

“Who needs them? Angelica and Eliza are driving up to Chicago and said they’d drop you off and pick you up on their way. You can’t escape this time, lol. I’ve got you trapped.”

You stared at the text, contemplating it. And trying to keep her best interests in mind. Everything in you seemed conflicted. You could come up with an excuse. Something already planned for this weekend. Or you could go, have the time of your life, and then ruin your entire friendship. You groaned in frustration at your options and slammed your forehead down on your desk. Another buzz erupted from your phone, disturbing your peace.

“Please tell me you’ll come? I miss you and I feel like you don’t want to see me.”

A tear formed and fell from your eye. Of course Peggy would see right through any excuse you gave her. She didn’t deserve to think you were abandoning her. This was your problem, not hers. You took a deep breath and slowly typed out a response.

“Yes! Of course!”

You huddled yourself into a ball and held tightly onto your phone when you pressed send. It would be fine, you told yourself. You would just be on your best behavior. Even then, worry consumed your thoughts. You could not get drunk with her. You could not let her take your hand as she often did to lead you somewhere. And for the love of god, you could not share a bed with her.

But even with all those fears, a tingly feeling of excitement began to grow in your chest. In just a couple days you would see her again. And you would finally know if the burst of emotion for her that hit you when she left was just missing her… Or if you’ve had those feelings all along.

Your phone buzzed. “OMG YES. I can’t wait to see you, babe.” You grimaced at your fluttering heart when you read her last word. Maybe this would be harder than you thought.

But before you knew it, it was Friday after school, and you were greeted by Angelica and Eliza already eagerly awaiting you in the parking lot of your school, your overnight bag already packed in the back. Despite your fears for what awaited you this weekend, you couldn’t help the beam that settled on your face as you climbed into the back seat of the car.

The sisters greeted you excitedly, and Eliza who was riding shot gun turned around to face you. “How have you been, Y/N! It’s been weird having you and Peggy gone from the house.” You giggled in response, knowing Eliza was being sincere. As Eliza was only one year older and Angelica only two, when you became best friends with Peggy, you basically embraced all three sisters.

The car ride was far from silent. Angelica turned on your favorite band, and it didn’t matter how good or bad one wanted to sing: in that car, everything was welcomed so long as it was loud.

Eventually, however, the radio was turned down so you could catch up with the sisters. Eliza was (unsurprisingly) still dating Alex, and Angelica (unsurprisingly) was top of her class of political science majors.

“Are you guys visiting with Peggy at all? Or just going straight to Chicago?”

“Straight to Chicago,” Angelica answered simply, checking her blind spot as she changed lanes on the highway.

Eliza turned back around to face you. “We’ll visit on the way back though!” she said with a beam.

As Eliza turned back around, a wicked grin crossed Angelica’s face. “Just figured we’d give you some alone time with Peggy first.” She looked back at your forced neutral face through the rearview mirror and gave you a wink. At the sight of your cheeks becoming instantly flushed, she broke out into a laugh, with Eliza joining in with a giggle.

But Eliza apparently thought she was giggling about something else, because when she glanced behind at you and saw the blush, she quickly became serious and whipped around.

“No way! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” The question came out as a whine as she pointed an accusatory glare towards you.

You held your hands up defensively. “I haven’t told anyone,” you said quietly and self-consciously.

“Sweetie, you didn’t have to,” Angelica said, once again becoming serious. “It’s on your face every time you’re with her. You would make a great couple, you know. You should go for it!”

Your blush intensified, but you couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling in your stomach. Peggy still didn’t deserve you guilting her into a relationship. “I don’t think so,” you said softly. Angelica gave a small nod, understandingly.

“Well, I know I was out of the loop, but I don’t think Peggy could be with anyone better. I mean, I never thought I would be dating Alex,” she encouraged you.

With a sad smile, you responded with a sigh, “Not everyone can be you and Alex.”

“I know,” she replied sincerely. “But I know Pegs like the back of my hand. Just… see what happens.”

You tried to push away the thoughts Eliza was allowing to form in your mind, but Angelica piped up to back her up. “You know Peggy begged us to bring you this weekend. She really missed you.”

“Not like that,” you mumbled. You saw the sisters exchange disappointing glances, but the topic was thankfully dropped. For the last hour of the ride, you decided to torture yourself by exploring the idea that maybe Peggy did reciprocate feelings for you. You knew it was dangerous waters for you to be exploring, but what Angelica and Eliza had just told you prevented you from not being curious.

When you arrived at the campus, you were surprised at how many people were out and about. Already, college seemed to overwhelm you. As you weaved your way through the campus roads towards Peggy’s dorms, you felt yourself becoming more and more tense. You just really didn’t want to screw up everything you already had with her.

Peggy must have been watching for your car in the lobby, for the moment Angelica turned to pull into a parking spot, she came flying out the door. You couldn’t help your initial reaction seeing her again after all those months, and you swung the car door open as soon as it was in park. You managed to get out of your car at the exact moment Peggy reached you. Upon seeing you, she let out a little squeal and smashed you into hug.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of her familiar sweet pea perfume and citrus shampoo. You tried to focus on that, rather than her hands on the small of your back and her face in your neck. Finally, she pulled back from your hug, beaming.

“I’m so glad you came! We are going to have so much fun,” she said with a wink. You fought the heat rising to your cheeks. Then she turned to her sisters and gave each of them similar hugs while you unloaded your bag from the trunk. When you glanced back up at the sisters, you caught Angelica whispering something in Peggy’s ear. When your eyes narrowed, Angelica caught you staring and gave you a suspicious smile. You couldn’t read Peggy’s face, but your heart was hammering at what Angelica might have told her.

The sound of you slamming the trunk shut caught Peggy’s attention. She seemed completely unperturbed and flashed you a brilliant smile. You felt yourself relax slightly. Maybe Angelica didn’t tell her anything about you.

Angelica and Eliza announced their departure, and after you thanked them for bringing you, they climbed into the car and drove off. You swore, however, right before the pulled away, Angelica gave you a sly wink accompanied by a small giggle from Eliza.

“We can drop your stuff off in my room.”

Peggy pulled your attention back towards her, and you couldn’t prevent the wide smile that always partnered the sight of her.

When you reached her room, you noticed her roommate was already out for the night. You dropped your bag on the floor as you inquired where the two of you would be going tonight.

“Well, I was going to bring you to that awesome party I told you about,” she said with a slightly sarcastic tone, “but my friend just texted me and he said it’s super lame. So instead I was thinking we would just watch a movie? I know it’s not very exciting, but I figured we could catch up tonight and go out tomorrow night?”

You let out a mental sigh of relief that you would get one more day to prepare for partying with her, and eagerly encouraged her suggestion. She seemed relieved you were okay with it, and quickly started up the TV. The two of you unanimously agreed upon watching Heathers, and you hopped onto her bed and waited as she put the movie in.

When she crawled onto the the bed next to you, you tried to keep your face neutral when you realized she wanted to snuggle right next to you. Your body wanted to stiffen up, but you forced it to relax. As long as she didn’t snuggle so close that she could hear your heart beating a thousand beats per second, you would get through this.

The two of you kept the conversation flowing most of the first half of the movie, her shoulder brushed up against yours and one of her legs resting on top of yours. When the conversation slowed a little, however, she rested her head on top of your shoulder, to which your initial reaction was to tense up, something you hoped she didn’t notice. You could feel her bushy hair lightly brush your cheek and kept a light conversation going as you relaxed again.

But then your heart stopped as you felt her hand brush against yours. At first, you thought it was an accident, and she was just moving her hand position. The second time, you questioned that theory, flexing your hand with anxiety. The third time you felt her hand, she didn’t give you time to wonder about any of it. Her hand effortlessly slipped into yours, and before you could think it over, you automatically clasped your hand shut, your fingers interwoven with each other’s.

At this point, all conversation ceased. You attempted to concentrate on two things: the movie and continuing to breathe. You were sure the entire building could hear the loud thud of your heart.

You froze as you felt her head shift on your shoulder so that she could look at you.

“Y/N?” she whispered into your ear. You hummed in response, pointedly avoiding her gaze. Your stomach turned violently. “Angelica told me.” You finally granted her a side glance, trying to keep yourself together. But the expression on Peggy’s face punctured your heart. She seemed unsure of herself, like she doubted the validity of her sister’s words and had made a mistake. She turned her eyes downcast when they met yours and fiddled with your fingers. Finally, she gave them a little squeeze, and whispered, “I-I like you too, you know.”

Emotions flushed through you upon hearing those words, and when your eyes connected once again, she leaned up and lightly planted a kiss on your lips. The amount of unbelievable emotions flowing through you rendered you unable to respond for a moment. When she pulled back and realized you never kissed her in response, she mumbled “I’m sorry” and gently let go of your hand.

Panic took over, and you quickly jumped into action. Using your now both free hands, you shifted your body to face Peggy and gently cupped the sides of her face to firmly meet her lips. She quickly reciprocated and wrapped her arms tightly around your waist. Her soft lips tasted like cherry, and the heat of them caused your cheeks to flush bright red. Your fingers daringly dug themselves into her hair, to which she responded by pushing against you harder.

When you pulled back, you felt a bit lightheaded and gave Peggy a small smile. She burst into a brilliant giggle and kept her arms firmly around your waist as she fell back into the bed, tugging you down on top of her. You both quickly settled into a position of comfort, holding each other. Peggy used one of her free hands to gently stroke your hair, and found your hand with her other one to resume their interlocked position.

You closed your eyes and relaxed into the heat of her body.

After a few moments, Peggy whispered, “I’m really glad you came.” You snuggled into her closer as a response.

Then a thought entered your head. You pulled back slightly to look up at Peggy’s face. “Peggy, was there ever an ‘amazing party’ tonight?” To your surprise, you watched Peggy struggle to keep a neutral expression as blush heated her face. You let out a laugh, to which she looked at you curiously. “You didn’t have to make up a party for me to come visit,” you told her simply.

With a small laugh, she mumbled, “Well I couldn’t exactly ask you on a date either.” Still giggling slightly, you shifted back into your cuddling position and closed your eyes.

You fell asleep in the heat of her body and rhythm of her breathing for the first, but not last, time.


	14. Between Jazz and Roommates: James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: What about a james madison x reader college au where james is super in love with them and tries to win their love? Thank you!!
> 
> James x Female Reader

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” your roommate tried to reassure you, but you weren’t having it.

You flopped onto your bed and covered your face in your pillow. “It was,” you groaned, helplessly. You had just returned to you dorm from your Calculus I midterm, and well, you were just hoping you didn’t just fail.

“Hey, I brought down that cd you were asking for.”

The deep voice came from the other side of the small room, and you removed the pillow from your face long enough to see James lurking in the doorway. And honestly, the last thing you need right now was for your insides to turn to mush, so you slammed the pillow back into your face without any kind of response.

Though your eyes were surrounded in darkness, you could feel James’ concerned look land on you. He probably did that little foot shuffle he does around you because you make him uncomfortable.

God, you wished you didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Thinking about your unrequited love for the boy down the hall made your depressed mood escalate, so keeping your face smashed into the pillow, you rolled towards the wall onto your side and stayed there huddled. You tried to keep yourself from thinking anything because everything just seemed wrong. You relaxed slightly as you heard Angelica start talking.

“Sorry, James, she just had a rough midterm. Thanks for bringing the cd by, though! I’m sure she’ll thank you for it when she doesn’t want to die,” Angelica said effortlessly with a little giggle. James gave a little chuckle and then you heard his feet scuff the hallway floor as he walked away. You heard the door close, and then silence.

You yelped as you felt the cd case hit you in the back, clearly thrown across the room at you, though not nearly as hard as it could have been. “Could you be anymore ridiculous?” Angelica asked incredulously.

You popped your head up from your huddle and shot her a disgruntled glare. “Boys like girls who don’t shove their head into pillows when they walk into a room,” she stated pointedly, an obvious affectionate tone peeking through her hard edge. You did nothing but push your head back into your pillow.

Angelica let out a loud sigh, and then you felt her right next to you on the bed wrapping her arms around you.

That night, you popped James’ cd into your laptop and gingerly put your headphones in. The music that filled your ears made you feel lighter. You didn’t usually listen to jazz, but if James kept introducing to artists like this, jazz would become the only genre you listened to ever.

With a smile on your face you bounded out of your room down the hallway to the door that was always open. James was more of an introvert, he had confessed to you once, but rooming with Thomas forced him to be more outgoing.

“James!” you enthusiastically whipped through their doorway. He was sitting in his desk working on a paper and looked up at you startled. “This music is fantastic.” You drug out “fantastic” to emphasize and his smile lit up, as it always did when jazz was brought into the conversation.

“Well,” he said cautiously, “if you like it, I have a couple more cds I can give you. They’re just as good.” You smiled brightly and shook your head eagerly. James pulled a box of cds out from under his desk and began searching through them for the ones he required.

“Excuse me, Y/N, but I kinda need in my own room.” You turned around to find you were blocking the doorway for Thomas, and quickly hopped out of the way with an apology. As he walked past you, he raised his eyebrow and gave you a sly smile before pointedly looking at James and back at you. Your face immediately flushed red, but you managed to roll your eyes as Thomas began to chuckle.

You saw James sit up straighter as his desk and look over at you from the corner of your his. “Found them,” he said brightly, as you turned your attention towards him. You smiled gratefully and walked over to him to accept them. Your fingers brushed as he handed you the cds, and you tried to ignore how pathetic it was that you thought that meant something.

For an awkward second, you stood with the cds in your hands staring at James, who looked down at you puzzled. Then realizing you no longer had any purpose in his room, you quickly mumbled a thank you and goodbye and retreated for the door, the heat rushing to your face.

“Wait, Y/N,” he called after you, and you didn’t want to know how much hope was in your eyes when you turned around. “I-It’s been a few months, but I took Calc 1 last semester with Professor Threase. If you ever want any help, I can try.”

You gave him a small appreciative smile, not quite wanting to remember your midterm today, but also knowing his help would be invaluable in the future. “Thank you,” you said softly, trying to convey to him you truly meant it through your eyes. He seemed to understand and gave you a tentative smile and nod.

When you were a couple steps down the hall, you stopped, took a deep breath, and then continued walking back to your room. James always messed with your head.

“He’s always distant when he’s with me,” you complained to Angelica later that week. You had just gotten back to your dorm from your second study session with James.

Angelica sighed. “That doesn’t mean he’s not interested,” she pointed out. Angelica was practical, and an analyst. She barely ever let her feelings take over her thought process, and you were grateful to have someone like that in your life. But you just really felt she was wrong this time.

“That’s exactly what it means. If he’s distant that means he’s uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. And I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, I want him to enjoy spending time with me. And if he doesn’t enjoy spending time with me, what chance do I have?” You finally stopped for a breath, and sighed dramatically as you flopped backwards onto your bed. Angelica came and sat beside you.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, grabbing and squeezing your hand. Looking into Angelica’s eyes, you noticed some leftover pain in them from Alex. You shot up and hugged her.

“I’m sorry I’m such a jerk,” you mumbled. “You don’t want to hear about me and James after Alex.” When you pulled back, she shrugged.

“Honestly, I’m done being sad about him. And I want to be happy for you. So please just let me talk to James,” she pleaded with you. She was honestly the most genuine and understanding person you knew, and you didn’t know which gods you pleased to get paired with her as a roommate.

But you still couldn’t let her talk to James.

When she saw your answer in your eyes, she sighed. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “This just seems like something I should figure out myself.”

“I understand,” she said sincerely, but with a hint of disappointment.

The next day you got a text from James. “Thomas and I are heading down to a jazz concert tonight. Wanna come?”

You froze when you saw the text. If he had just asked you to the concert, that would have meant he liked you. But since he pointedly said Thomas was coming along, that meant he wanted to make sure you knew this was all friendly… right?

Panicked, you threw your phone at Angelica who read the text, and then looked up at you like you were an idiot. “Do you want to go?” she asked simply.

“Of course I want to go!” you answered, your eyes wide, looking at her with anxiety. “But I don’t want to be humiliated all night by Thomas who knows I like James and James doesn’t like me.”

Angelica rolled her eyes. “I think your reading into this too much. It’s just a concert for the music he lent you. He probably made Thomas listen to it too.”

“You should go too,” you stated, your eyes pleading. Her face crumpled in disgust.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. When you tried to protest, she held up her hand. “If I go, it’ll look like a double date, and I am not going on anything resembling a date with Thomas Jefferson.” You huffed in annoyance, and before you could react, Angelica typed something on your phone and hit send.

You groaned when she handed it back to you and saw your text to James: “Of course!”

And admittedly, the night wasn’t near as bad as you anticipated.

James refused to let you pay for your own ticket. “I introduced you to this. It would be unfair of me to expect you to pay for it because of me,” he stated simply when you protested. But you did notice Thomas pay for his own ticket.

The music live was even better than the recordings. All three of you were animated talking about the concert on the walk back to the dorm. At one point, while Thomas was rambling on about the lead singer, you shivered in the cool night breeze. James looked down at you concerned and offered you the coat he held in his hands. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the jacket, before you realized you were too cold to refuse.

The jacket was huge on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You resisted from snuggling up in it right then and there. As James began an essay on the saxophone player, your eyes accidentally met Thomas’. He looked at the jacket and then back up at you and gave you a wink. Your heart started pounding loudly. This is what you were afraid of happening all night.

Thomas gave you a pointed look, and with a sly smile, opened his mouth to say something. You blood froze, anticipating whatever he was about to say, when you realized your trio was standing right outside the dorm.

You bolted for the door, saying some rubbish about “Thank god, heat”, and hoped to every god anyone believed in anywhere Thomas wouldn’t keep saying what he was about to say.

When you got inside the dorm lobby, you breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to see Thomas smiling amused and James looked a little confused at both yours and Thomas’ expressions. The three of you climbed the stairs to your floor silently, and when you got out of the staircase, you quickly thanked both the guys for the wonderful evening, and made a beeline for your room.

As the door shut behind you, Angelica absentmindedly asked you how the concert was without looking up from her literature book. When she did look up at you, she stopped short of what she was going to say. At first, you thought she stopped because of the frazzled look on your face. But when the sly smile crossed her lips, you closed your eyes and groaned.

“Nice coat,” she said too sweetly. You had forgotten to give it back to James. With your face completely flushed, you quickly took the coat off and began relating the evening to Angelica.

At the end of your relation of events, you threw the coat onto your desk chair and crashed into your bed.

“Aren’t you going to return the coat?” Angelica asked concerned. You waved your hand off at her.

“Tomorrow,” you stated simply. “Thomas has probably told James by now, if he hadn’t already figured it out himself, and I don’t think I could bare facing either of them again tonight.” Angelica, thankfully, dropped the subject.

You could almost still feel James’ body heat within the coat as you walked down the hallway towards his room the next afternoon. You almost walked right past his door, however, because, unlike every other second of its existence, it was closed. You stopped and stared at the door confused, and rationalizing the boys probably weren’t up yet, even though it was one in the afternoon.

Shrugging your shoulders, you went to place the jacket on the doorknob, unashamedly grateful no contact was necessary to return it, and froze as you heard voices inside.

“Will you just let it go?” James’ voice asked irritated.

“Not until you ask her out,” Thomas’ voice replied smugly.

Your heart began racing in anticipation of James’ response. Because there was no possible way they were talking about-

“Y/N doesn’t want me to ask her out, Thomas. Just… stop.” The tone of his voice broke your heart. He didn’t think you liked him? You brain kept running through the words in your head, trying to rationalize them, and why they were so important. And then it hit you: he didn’t think you liked him… and that upset him. He wanted you to like him. Every beat of your heart felt like a thud in your chest.

“James,” Thomas began getting irritated, “this isn’t the 1950’s. You don’t have to give her cds or tutor her or take her to concerts or–for god’s sake–give her your coat. You don’t have to win her over. She already likes you. Just grow a pair and ask her out.”

There was a long pause of silence in the room and before you could react or comprehend you should not be eavesdropping on this conversation, you heard James sigh “Fine” and his heavy footsteps move towards the door. Realizing what was about to happen, you froze in fear.

The door swung open, and there you stood in front of a surprised James. “Y/N?” he asked. The reality of the conversation you just overheard hit him, and he quickly shut the door, but not before you could see the red flush in his cheeks that matched yours.

You heard fervent whispering within the room, but you couldn’t find it in you to move from the exact spot you were frozen. Suddenly, the door flew open, but this time Thomas stood there looking frustrated, and quickly walked over to you. He roughly seized your arm and shoved you inside the dorm room with James, and shut the door leaving himself out.

“It’s about damn time you guys figure this out, so figure it out and then let me back in because I didn’t grab my key,” Thomas called from outside the door.

In shock from the turn of events, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to control your urge to throw up. Your eyes refused to meet James’ for several minutes, until you glanced up at him and noticed that he was intently staring at the floor.

“I’ve wanted you to ask me out since the day we met,” you finally admitted quietly, shattering the silence. He looked up at you, surprised. His disbelief was so surreal… because it was exactly how you felt about him. How had you both been walking circles around each other for so long?

He studied you a long time before heaving a long sigh. “Well then,” he shifted uncomfortably, “would you like to? Go out with me, I mean.” His words fumbled and you smiled gratefully at them.

“Of course,” you responded shyly. His eyes lit up, and you realized just how much you enjoyed seeing him happy and comfortable around you.

“I hope you guys aren’t making out or something in there, because I really do need back into my room at some point,” Thomas called from the hallway. You both started chuckling and James, with a little anxiety, gently grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door.

As Thomas walked back in through the now opened door, he muttered “Finally” as he walked past you. You were unsure if it was due to the admittance into his room or the fact you and James were together. Your bet was on the latter, as it didn’t slip your attention Thomas’ eyes grew warmer when he noticed your entangled hands.

You squeezed James’ fingers slightly, and he squeezed back. He was exactly as warm as you imagined.


	15. Husbands for Us: Philip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Could I gets some Phillip fluff + angst where its the night before his duel and he sneaks to the readers house to cuddle and talk about the future and the next day he leaves her a note telling her that he needed to defend her honor and his father’s.
> 
> Philip x Female Reader

No reason really existed for Philip and you to sneak around.

Besides his father’s recent scandal, his family was held in high stature, as was yours. Both families would highly approve of your courtship. In fact, you had once heard your father jest about the possibility of the future for the two of you. You had met Philip honorably while you had been visiting your father (one of his professors) at King’s College.

But still, you kept every moment with each other away from the rest of the world.

It felt less tainted that way. More pure. Like every moment together was a moment both of you solely chose to be with each other. Every meeting was carefully planned with signals and hidden messages in plain sight. When you saw each other in public, he would give you a flirtatious grin and would leave a kiss marking your hand… as if he hadn’t left the marks on your neck the previous night.

“Y/N, do you think we ever shall find true love? Or will it just be husbands for us?”

The soft voice of your sister pulled you from your thoughts. Your eyes swept the room towards her, where she sat curled up in a chair by the fire, clinging to her favorite fairytale. Just eleven years old and so acutely aware of the pain this world could inflict.

You moved from your spot by the window and floated across the room to hug the tiny figure. You gently kissed her forehead and whispered into her soft hair, “Many receive husbands instead of love, but Mari, my love, I believe with all my soul it will be love for you.” The wide-eyed hope in her eyes caused a fissure in your heart. You had no right to promise her love in this world.

Doubt suddenly crossed her face and furrowed in her eyebrows. “But what of you, Y/N?”

The question was so innocent, yet it caused a slight blush to settle upon your cheeks. With a forced smile and another kiss to the forehead, you calmly said, “I think the love will act in my favor as well.” She seemed relieved to hear this and shakily stood from her chair. You warmly gave her another hug and sent her off to bed, for the moon had been visiting the sky for quite some time now.

Swiftly, you began to extinguish the candles around the room, still deep in thought over whether or not you comforted Mari the right way. You got to the last candle and stopped right before you put it out. If Mari never found true love, the world would be a dark place indeed. Finally at peace with your mind, you blew out the candle.

“Y/N?”

The whisper came unexpected through the darkness and your blood froze cold at the sound. He chuckled at the sound of your breath catching.

Your whisper came out more like a growl. “You think that’s funny?”

Philip, whose face you could just make out in the moonlight, quickly became serious. “No, I-I’m sorry.” But neither of you could hide the smirks on your faces. Your two bodies gravitated towards each other, as they always did. He wasted no time snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you so close, you could feel his hands running through the hair on the back of your head. Your fingers fiddled with the front of his coat, tugging him closer, but still you still weren’t connected. Your foreheads met, and you both stood in silence, eyes closed, listening to the rhythm of your breathes.

“Philip?” you whispered, your heart hammering out of your chest as it always did when you were this close. You knew the kiss was coming, and it would be nothing but kisses and talks of the infinite universe after it. So you had to get this out now. “Why are you here?”

His breathing stopped and he pulled back slightly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up to him, waiting on an explanation as to why he would come without telling you.

But your explanation never came. Instead, he pulled you into him tightly and firmly connected his lips with yours. The sudden heat on your mouth caused you to shudder and wildly move you hands into his hair, holding on to fistfulls of the curly mess at a time. You welcomed his tongue into your mouth and sloppily pushed against it with your own. Slowly, he moved you backwards until you gasped as you hit the wall with a thud.

When he finally pulled away from you, you still had ahold of his hair, and you were both panting happily. With a twinkle in his eye, he swiftly and silently grabbed your hand and led toward the doorway. Attempting to keep your giggles to minimum, you snuck through the house until you reached your bed chamber.

As you gingerly sat on top of your bed, Philip comfortably slid off his coat and trousers in front of you and slid into bed with you in just his undergarments with no hesitation. You laid your body down beside his and snuggled in close. Nothing soothed you more than the rise and fall of his chest and the beating thump within. You felt him gently stroking your hair.

He broke the silence. “I think we should tell our parents. About us.”

Your heart fluttered, partially in anxiety. As you shifted your head up to see him, you inquired, “You really think? Right now?”

“You don’t?” You could tell he was trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“No, I think we should make our relationship open, but…” you trailed off, unsure how he would take your suggestion.

You felt his head shift down to you in confusion. “But what?” he finally asked. The slight frustration in his voice made you grimace. The last thing you wanted to do was spoil a night with him.

A slight sigh escaped your lips before you responded. “Maybe we should start courting, but actually make it look like we were just starting. To avoid the mess of explaining why we’ve lied for so long.”

A short laugh escaped from his chest and all his frustration disappeared. “That actually makes sense, but I wish I would have thought of it before. Because… now I feel like it’s too late.”

You were silent for a second, contemplating the veiled meaning of his words. Finally, you asked, “Why is it too late?” You held your breath in anticipation, unsure of what he meant at all. Gently, you felt him slip something into your hand.

All breathing functions stopped within your body. Slowly, you pulled your hand up so you could see the object clearly. When your eyes laid upon the simple gold ring for the first time, sobs immediately began to overtake your body.

It all made sense now. His strange behavior, showing up on a whim, talk of their relationship in the open. He was proposing. You rotating your body so you were now crying into him, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing light kisses on the top of your head.

Finally, Philip gave a little nervous laugh and asked, “That’s a yes?” He engulfed you in another tight hug when he felt your head shaking up and down on his chest.

When you were finally able to catch your breath, you excitedly slipped on the ring and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled down on you adoringly.

“Where will we live?” you inquired of him enthusiastically, shifting yourself back into your snuggling position.

He thought about a moment, and then finally answered “Uptown. I’ve always wanted to move uptown.” You nodded at his proposal. Your friend Rebecca lived uptown, and you loved visiting her.

“And in this perfect world,” he murmured to you sweetly, “how many children do you wish to bless us with?”

“Two,” you replied easily. “And since you made this world perfect in the question, it’ll be a girl and a boy.” He laughed gently at your decisiveness and gave you a little squeeze. You knew coming from a large family, Philip loved each and every one of his siblings, but you also knew they overwhelmed him at times. For yourself, only ever having Mari turned you off from ever wanting more than an intimate pair of children.

You both remained silent for a time, before he cut through the air with another question. “In fifty years, where do you see us?” The question wasn’t playful, but rather the look upon his face remained somber.

Upon realizing the seriousness of the question for him, you contemplated it a while, going through multiple different scenarios trying to choose the best one.

But then you realized the common theme between them all.

“Together.”

It was a simple answer, but it was the only right one, you decided. In everything you considered, it was always you and Philip. Side by side. Facing the world.

He let out a heavy sigh before speaking. “And if we’re not?”

The question froze in the air. It was as if you could see it floating above you. Taunting you. You stared at it for a while, before you closed your eyes and responded.

“Philip, you are not your father. You won’t have an affair.” Ever since his father published that godawful pamphlet, Philip had always seemed to have a sense of self-loathing around you; as if he believed he would follow in his father’s footsteps and destroy your heart.

His voice was shaky when he responded. “Y-you’re right.” And the subject was dropped.

The air was now tense, but you left it up to him to soothe it over.

“Can our son be named Peter?”

You let out a breath of relief and allowed a smile to return to your face. “Of course. As long as our daughter is Madeleine.”

“Beautiful,” he replied softly, burying his head within your hair. And within the rhythm of his body, you fell asleep gently into the night’s embrace.

In the morning, however, the rhythm no longer soothed you, as you soon found he no longer accompanied you in bed. You groaned with disapproval, but silently thanked him for leaving before the maids would catch you. The sun was high in the sky, and you were surprised anyone left you sleep as long as you did. As you got out of bed, you noticed a note left on your nightstand and beamed as you reached for it.

_My love,_

_I’m sorry I must leave you early this morning. I’m sure you’d understand. It was incredibly difficult to walk away from you, especially after last night._

You twisted the ring around on your finger and closed your eyes for a silent squeal before returning to the letter.

_We must tell our families of the great news as soon as I return. But before then, I must inform you of my endeavors this fair morning._

You paused, puzzled. You couldn’t remember him mentioning anything in the morning last night.

_As you know, my father–though an honorable man–performed and published a less than honorable act. Though he ruined my mother, I cannot allow anyone else to ruin him. I must defend the honor I know lies within him._

Your pulse slowed. What did he mean “defend”?

_George Eacker challenged that honor. So I challenged him. We will duel this morning at dawn._

The steady breaths you were supposed to be breathing began coming in short heaves. Philip didn’t know how to shoot a gun.

_I’m sorry I did not possess the courage to inform you of this matter last night. But do not worry my love. I will return safely to your arms by noon._

_All my love for eternity,_

_Philip_

Your breath caught and wouldn’t allow the sobs to erupt. Not yet. You ran to clock.

It was noon.

With the note tightly clutched in your hand, you ran down the staircase, not bothering to change out of your nightgown. Upon seeing the wild look on your face, your family inquired what was wrong. But you were only searching for one face that wasn’t here.

You didn’t allow yourself to think of the impossible. Instead, you rationalized. He was probably with his family. It was his first duel after all. The sickening thoughts of the dishonorable George Eacker and his infamy to duel without morality were pushed to the very back of your brain as you sprinted from your house.

You ran the entire two miles to the Hamilton’s household. When you reached their yard, the anxiety and exhaustion caught up to you. You doubled over in his yard and threw up. But you kept the note firmly intact in your hand.

You couldn’t help chuckling slightly at the thought that Philip was inside waiting for you, and you had just thrown up in his yard. You told yourself you were worried for nothing.

But as you raised your head up to examine the house, you blood ran cold when you noticed how eerily silent it seemed.

You stood up, and took a couple slow and wary steps towards the house.

Suddenly, you froze as wails erupted from inside. You felt like you were going to throw up again. You forgot how to breath. Your vision went blurry, and you tried to block out the awful noise.

And then everything was quiet. You heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door, but didn’t have the strength in you to move.

The door opened and slammed shut, and in its wake stood a broken and tear-stained Alexander Hamilton. You watched shamelessly as he began kicking his house and crumpling on the front steps in shrieking sobs.

Your emotions seemed to vacant your body. You just stood there numbly, knowing why Alexander was crying on his front steps, but not accepting it either. Your fingers wrapped around the note tighter.

Alexander caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. He looked up at you, confused as to why you were standing in front of his house with tear filled eyes, a vomit covered nightgown, and a now well-crumpled note. You offered no explanation, but something in his eyes finally convinced you of the unconceivable.

The world suddenly became black.

Slowly, you awoke from a daze on the cobblestone road, held by Alexander. He held your note in his hand and stared longingly at the ring you still wore on your finger. When your eyes met, he gently embraced you in a hug. You sat numbly unwillingly to move, but when you felt his body shaking from the sobs racking through his body, you softly placed your arms around him. The two of you began tightening your grip on each other, as if to hold each other each together through sheer force. You began to not be able to tell which sobs were his and which were yours.

The previous night kept running through your head. Every moment of your conversation together. You thought of your house uptown, growing old together, Peter and Madeleine. Your marriage.

He had gone and ruined it all. And it would be a husband for you after all.


	16. Love Me Not: King George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hey there! I wanted to ask for a King George X Reader in which the reader is a princess in an arranged marriage with George but she hates him. But then she sees the soft side of him and falls in love. (LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW)
> 
> King George x Female Reader

You officially made it two-thirds of the way to your decision, you thought glumly as you flopped down unceremoniously onto your mattress.

Four months had passed since your father abandoned you with the second worst King you knew. The first of course being your father. But King George was a very close second.

In two months there would be a ball. And you would either have to accept or decline the betrothal to King George. And you weren’t any closer now than you were four months ago in deciding whether declining George and risking spending the rest of your life with your father was worth getting out of this castle.

Not that that was the only problem you had to face.

You were far from the first suitor to be betrothed to the arrogant king. The seventh, actually. He had declined all that came before you. It seemed that even if you decided to accept the arrangement, the king was intent on staying unwed.

“Princess Y/N?” a maid meekly called from the doorway. You took a deep breath and sat up with a small smile attached to your lips. “The King wishes to have a word,” the maid continued with a little curtsey. You nodded in acknowledgement and slowly shifted yourself off of your bed.

Your feet carried you slowly to the King’s office where you knew you would find him bent over a stack of papers. Most of these conversations only wound up being about which diplomats you would have the honor of entertaining in the next week. If you were lucky, he would look up from his desk to tell you about them. If not, you would get names, and would proceed to research the guests on your own.

But when you walked in, you were surprised to find the King leaning against his desk waiting for you.

“Ah, Princess Y/N. We have some things to discuss,” he stated professionally. Pushing off the desk with his hands and beginning to walk towards you and continued. “Truth be told, this is usually the point in time I inform my betrothed I will decline our arrangement. She cries about how she loves me, and I send her on her way to enjoy her last two months here.”

“You send away women who love you?” The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. You immediately downturned your eyes to the ground, but snuck a peek back up at the King’s reaction. He looked at you amused.

With a sigh, he responded, “I have no use for someone who loves and adores me. I don’t even really need someone who respects me. My country needs someone who can help me. Can you help me, Y/N?” His asked asked you sincerely, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“I hate you,” you finally responded. “You’re an arrogant bastard.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the King laughed at your response.

“And I think of you as a self involved bitch. But all the better, I believe. We won’t have to worry about each other’s feelings, which could get messy in our positions,” he quipped with a forced smile. But seeing your look of discomfort and anger, he sighed and became serious again. “All of you come here with the same issues. Usually to do with your father. Don’t think of it as a marriage offer, but rather a job offer to get you out. Neither of us will expect any more from each other. Consider it.” You tried to open your mouth to respond, but he gave you a pointed look and gestured towards the door. With an indignant huff, you turned on your heel and stalked out.

He was insufferable, but he was right. He may be your only way out.

A few weeks later you were still considering the Kings offer. You had found yourself wandering the castle many times late at night. You weighed the pros and cons. You tried to find an answer. But none came to you.

This particular night, however, your worrisome thoughts were put to rest by a soothing melody hanging in the air. Subconsciously, your feet followed the sound of the piano through the twists and turns of the halls, remembering the tunes your mother used to play to you as a child. With a small smile, you peeked into the reading room to see which of the staff was sneaking in their time with the piano this late at night.

You jumped back from the door, however, when you recognized the all too familiar silhouette of the King sitting at the piano.

Hurriedly, you swept back to your room and crawled into bed promptly. You groaned as you tried to close your eyes to rest. Rest wouldn’t greet you; your mind was too preoccupied with the memory of the King’s peaceful and gentle face as his fingers expertly glided the keys of the piano.

The next morning you tried to inquire about your sight the night before with the maids inconspicuously.

“The piano in the reading room: can anyone play it, or is it for special purposes only?” you asked nonchalantly as the maids tidied different aspects of your while you sat on your bed, hugging a pillow and observing them.

Gretchen, who was dusting around the fireplace, responded first. “I believe it’s for anyone, ma’am,” she commented.

“But the King often finds himself playing there late at night, if that’s what you’re asking, ma’am,” Jemma added with a smirk. Your cheeks flushed red as you became indignant.

“That most certainly was not what I was asking,” you sputtered. Gretchen and Jemma shared a pointed look at each other. “What was that?” you asked defensively. They both turned to you with innocent expressions, and you huffed as you hopped of the bed, your pillow still in hand.

“What was what, ma’am?” Jemma asked mischievously. She had always been the braver one around you.

You gave an annoyed eyeroll. “That look. What was that look?” you demanded.

Gretchen and Jemma hesitated looking at each other, but it was Gretchen who ultimately spoke up. “The household staff has a bet,” she explained meekly. You raised your eyebrow in a gesture for her to continue. “About whether you’ll fall in love with the King first, or he’ll fall in love with you first.”

Your blood became icy as you clutched the pillow with a hard face. “Well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?” you asked. “Because there’s absolutely no way he would fall in love with me, the bastard. And I have no intentions of seeing him as anything but an ass, so there. Call the bets off.” You slumped back down on your bed. Your eyes were drawn up when you heard the giggling across the room.

“Ma’am, you and King have got it bad,” Jemma commented through her laughs. Your skin crawled, and in response, you grabbed another pillow, and threw both pillows in your hands at once towards your maids. The squealed as the pillows hit them and looked at you confused. Standing on your bed, you swept another pillow into your arms.

“I will not stand for such accusations against me,” you stated in an over the top royal voice. “I challenge thee-s to a duel.” A smirk formed on your mouth as you held up your pillow. Catching on and taking their pillows into their own hands, Gretchen and Jemma charged your bed.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to challenge two people to a pillow fight when you had no back up, but it didn’t stop you from fighting your hardest. Eventually the three of you collapsed onto your bed in a fit of giggles.

“You’ve always been our favorite betrothed, ma’am,” Gretchen finally commented softly. “Give our King a chance.” Jemma nodded her head in agreement.

You tried not to dwell on her words too much. “You just destroyed me in a pillow duel, Gretchen,” you responded softly with a laugh. “No need to call me, ma’am.” Both of them smiled gratefully back up at you.

Their smiles followed you into dinner that evening. That and Gretchen’s plea. You were surprised to find yourself shaking a bit nervously walking into the dining hall for your nightly dinner with the King. It was ridiculous, really. Because even though things had started to change for you, they were still the same for him.

“I’ve heard there’s no one better in this quadrant of the world with foreign relations than you. Is that true?”

You almost dropped your fork when the King addressed you. You almost looked around to see if someone else had arrived to the dinner you didn’t notice, but when your eyes looked up, he was staring directly at you with an unreadable face.

“I- um,” you stuttered, trying to find a response. The King had never tried to start a conversation before. “I wouldn’t say that,” you eventually finished lamely, turning your eyes back down to your plate quickly and using your fork to simply move your food around your plate, as you had lost your appetite. You hoped the blush in your cheeks wasn’t visible from the other end of the table.

You could feel the King’s eyes study you for a moment before speaking again. “Were you behind your kingdom’s dealing with Aremonia?” This time you refused to meet the King’s eyes as your blush became deeper.

“Yes,” you finally admitted. Your eyes peeked up at the King’s, which were still unreadable.

“Well,” the King finally commented. “Then I would argue the truth to my previous statement. I’m currently trying to get a deal with them myself, and they drive a hard bargain.” You knew what he was asking for. You had to take a deep breath before consenting, however.

“If you would like, I could help you,” you offered slowly. The King’s eye’s lit up at your offer, and you tried to silence the feeling in your stomach.

Wiping his hands in his napkin, the King stood and looked at you expectantly. “We can go now, unless you aren’t finished?” he suggested, gesturing to your fork still aimlessly readjusting your food. Quickly you shook your head and stood from your chair, following the King out the door to his study.

When you arrived, he quickly searched through his mounds of papers and shoved one in your hands. While you began reading it, he began moving documents off one of the chairs to the side of the desk.

“Sneaky bastards, aren’t they?” you mumbled reading their proposals. This grabbed the attention of the King who promptly made his way over to you to read over your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shy away from his presence ghosting your left shoulder. “H-how long have you been in contact with them?” you asked, steadily trying to regain your confidence around him.

“About a month now,” George answered readily. You were left with no time to dwell on the fact you thought of him as George, as he continued speaking. “Each time they respond to my offer with a harder bargain. And I can’t refuse them outright because I desperately need their coal. I wish to send a diplomat to settle this in person, but I don’t know what to tell them to accept. How did your little kingdom ever get such a great deal with them? How did you manage that?” He eyes asked you sincerely, and your throat went dry, before you shook your head and looked back down at the agreement.

“You need two thousand lots of coal. How many timber logs is that fairly worth?” you asked concerned.

“Around three thousand,” he answered shamefully. Your eyes shot up in surprise.

You held up George’s latest offer. “This offers them ten thousand.”

“I know,” he answered slowly.

“What kind of affect would that have on your economy?” you demanded. George shifted his eyes away from yours and refused to answer. “George, what kind of effect?” you asked again, softer this time. His eyes shot up to yours at the mention of his name, but you both ignored it.

“A devastating one,” he finally admitted.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Then why-”

“Winter is coming, Y/N,” he cut you off. “Either I give up a third of my country’s resources to obtain heat for my people, or I burn through my country’s resources to obtain heat for my people. There’s no other option.”

George looked completely defeated. You swallowed thickly witnessing his passion for protecting his subjects and wondering how you had missed that before. Of course he had ignored you. You were just a visitor. But he had people living in this country he was responsible for. You took a deep breath.

“You have another option,” you finally offered. He looked up at you with hope, and you were happy to do this for him. To let you in on your country’s secret for him. “Send your diplomat and offer them the three thousand,” you continued. He tried to protest, but you held up your hand to stop him. “When they refuse, tell your diplomat to ask them how their civil war is going.” George’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you pushed on. “Ask them if they want any back up from any other countries and list all the big names. The ones that don’t depend on Aremonia and will pull out support if they hear that their country is in a fragile state. Then offer them two thousand and your silence on the matter. They’ll take it gratefully.”

George observed you silently in awe, but then shook his head. “You want me to blackmail them with the threat of spreading rumors about a fake war?”

You shook your head. “I want you to threaten to reveal their very well concealed and very real war.”

George’s eyes widened at the information. “How-”

You grimaced. “Everyone heard of the skirmishes. My father seemed to be the only one to take them seriously. My father sent me to Aremonia as the war broke out. I quickly made a deal mostly in our favor that we receive a hefty amount of goods from Aremonia. What the rest of the world doesn’t know is in return my kingdom and I offered our silence and protection from their war ever reaching the ears of the outside world. I knew their country would be in shambles if countries pulled out from supporting them.”

George studied you carefully. “Wouldn’t this put your country at risk for breaking your end of the deal?”

You shrugged. “My country didn’t need my end of the deal. It was manipulative and deceitful to take that many resources from them in the middle of a war, especially when we didn’t need them. Your people need warmth. Don’t worry about us,” you explained quietly. And once again, you couldn’t read the expression written in George’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he finally responded. You nodded, and numbly made your way out your door.

The next day George promptly sent his diplomat out to Aremonia. And to your surprise, in the following weeks, George began asking for your advice more and more often. The two of you grew used to each other’s company for all of your waking hours. You almost considered him a friend.

Almost.

Every time you returned from his office, Jemma and Gretchen were in your room smirking. And every time you were less and less sure they didn’t have something to smirk about.

And before you knew it, you were standing on the ballroom floor in your extravagant red ballgown. The ball you would have to decided whether or not to accept George had arrived.

He had already told you he was going to accept you. Last night, actually. As he walked you down the corridors back to your room after one of your weekly piano sessions. After helping him these past weeks, you understood why he needed them. And you enjoyed accompanying him just to listen.

He had stopped you before you entered your room and told you he would say yes. Then he turned and walked away before you could respond. And you were grateful for that because you realized you hadn’t decided yet.

You had thought you had. Ask you anytime in the past couple weeks, it would have been an automatic yes. But something had changed. Something was off now.

You were pulled from your thoughts by George approaching you holding out his hand with a smile. Your stomach fluttered and you laughed at his cheesy expression, gratefully accepting his invitation to dance. His hand lightly took yours and his other wrapped around your waist, which caused you to momentarily cease breathing.

As the waltz began, your feet began moving in unison, gliding across the floor. The both of you laughed about stepping on each other’s feet every now and then, but mostly enjoyed each other’s company. Towards the end of the dance, however, he brought his head close to yours and murmured in your ear. “My diplomat returned today from Aremonia. They accepted.”

You pulled back, an excited smile lighting up your face as he led you across the ballroom floor. “George, that’s fantastic,” you congratulated him sincerely. And in that moment, looking into his eyes, you felt it. You felt the thing that was off. The think that was holding you back from saying yes.

You had fallen in love.

The dance ended, and you panicked and quickly detached yourself from George. He gave you a puzzled look, but his attention was drawn away when the Royal Visor announced the King and the Princess would announce their decision at the end of the next dance. While George’s attention was turned, you quickly slipped off the ballroom floor and into a side connecting hallway, in which you crumpled and tried to figure out what to do.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed huddle there before Gretchen and Jemma came to find you.

“Y/N? You have to announce your decision soon. The King’s looking everywhere for you,” Gretchen said upon finding you in the hall.

“I-I know, I just need a moment to decide,” you answered quietly not meeting their eyes. But you could tell they were suddenly confused.

Jemma was the one who hesitantly spoke. “Decide? Y/N? I thought the decision was clear? The way you talk with him and look at him? I thought you…” She trailed off uncomfortably, and you finally looked at them with tears in your eyes.

“That’s the problem isn’t it?” you finally asked softly. “George doesn’t want someone who’s in love with him. And I owe him as much to respect that.”

Both of your maids tried to speak up at this, when you all heard a throat clear at the end of the hall.

George.

You quickly averted eye contact, and regretfully noted you had trapped yourself in this hallway. Gretchen and Jemma made a quick exit past George into the ballroom, and you were suddenly alone with him.

He walked slowly towards you, but he didn’t speak, so you tried.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked. And then you decided to try to bolt for it, but as you tried to run past him, his hand grabbed your arm firmly. When your eyes met his, you were surprised to find them looking as hurt as they did.

“You’re thinking about declining?” he asked. “Why would you ever think about declining?”

You shifted uncomfortably, unable to hold his eyes any longer. “You have to let me go, George,” you finally commanded quietly. “I’ve considered all the options, and it really just comes down to I’m just like the rest of them. I’m just another princess who fell in love with you.”

George was silent for a few moment and finally let go of your arm. But you found yourself frozen to the ground as his hand snaked around your back and pulled you closer to him.

“Did you ever consider I might have fallen in love with you as well?” he mumbled softly as his free hand gently wove itself into your hair. You clenched your eyes shut and tried to steady your breathing.

After a few breaths, you finally strangled the words “Not really” off your lips, and you heard George give a shaky laugh before his soft lips connected with yours.

As soon the warmth of his lips covered yours, it felt like a switch was flipped in you. Your arms that were hanging limply to the sides quickly wrapped around his chest and pulled him flush against you. The sudden movement caused you both to stumble, and your back hit the wall behind your forcefully, knocking your breath out of you, which gave George a chance to begin chuckling again.

He connected his forehead with yours and smiled like a very happy child. You giggled at the sight, your whole body still buzzing and wondering if this was real.

“You know, I knew I was in love with you when I walked by your room the one afternoon and you were having a duel with your maids,” he commented softly. Your cheeks flushed at the realization he had witnessed her defending her hatred towards him with pillows, and began laughing again. “Come on,” he said as he pulled himself away from you and offered you a hand to lead you back to the ball. “It’s time for us to make our decisions.”

With a small smile, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the ballroom. But right before the two of you entered, you stopped him. He looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m going to accept,” you whispered. The glow in his eyes at your words warmed your body, and you squeezed each other’s hands. And then with a deep breath, you both opened to the door to seal your future together.


	17. Only If You Want: Hercules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: *slides in* so… I heard your requests were open! Could I maybe get a Hercules x reader where they’re both too scared to ask each other out, so people gotta start meddling. Thanks bro bro! *slides back out*
> 
> Hercules Mulligan x Female Reader

There was one thing all of your friends could agree on: brunch was the best tradition you all had started.

“Jesus, Laf, did you get any batter in the waffle maker?” you asked half jokingly, as tan goo settled all over the John’s counter. John just sighed as Lafayette became indignant.

“I just put a little too much in!” he protested as batter continued to pour from the sides. You rolled your eyes and turned back to placing your cinnamon rolls in a pan to be baked.

John looked up worriedly from his pan full of julienned potatoes holding a bottle of vegetable oil. “Guys, how much oil do I put in? I’ve never done the hash browns before,” he disclosed, waiting for someone to take over for him. But rules were rules at brunch: once you claim a food, you finish it.

Mostly because then there was only one person to blame when that food got inevitably destroyed.

“A lot if you want them to become crispy,” Angelica replied, sitting on the counter from the other side of the kitchen. Hercule’s little brother Hugh watched your dysfunctional group try to make food with amusement from behind the counter Angelica was sitting on.

“You guys could help, you know!” you called back, grabbing the tube the cinnamon rolls came from and checking how long they needed to be put in the oven.

Angelica merely laughed. “I think you’re fine right now,” she commented, and you grumbled as you shoved your panned up rolls in the oven.

“Angelica and Hugh on dishes duty?” Herc asked you quietly as you stood up from the oven.

You smirked. “Works for me,” you murmured back. Herc smiled at you as he continued mixing his eggs in the skillet for the scrambled eggs, and you did your best to hide your blush. Then you looked past Hercules at Lafayette. The batter on the table was growing. You sighed.

“Laf, if it keeps overflowing, put less batter in,” you instructed. He shot you an annoyed glare.

“You think I’m trying this?” he asked frustrated, waving his batter ladle around, and subsequently splattering himself with the goo. You giggled as he stared defeated at the raw waffle on his chest.

“Um, guys?” John asked concerned as he furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his hash browns. “How long are these supposed to take?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, like 5-10 minutes?”

He glanced up at you distressed. “Why aren’t they getting crispy?” At hearing this, Angelica--the usual maker of hash browns--hopped off the counter and peered over John’s shoulder at his pan.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice half-amused, half-annoyed. “I said put a lot in, not drown them in oil to the point the animals in the gulf feel bad for them. How much did you put in here?” she asked in disbelief. John slowly held up the once one-fourth filled but now empty vegetable oil bottle.

Angelica’s eyes widen and jaw dropped. She was about to say something when John cut her off. “Can we fix it?” he asked sincerely. She sighed.

“Put another bag of hash browns in this pan. Maybe it’ll all even out,” she suggested.

Herc was shaking to your side, and you looked up and noticed him trying not to laugh at John out loud. You playfully slapped him and pointed a finger. “Be nice,” you mouthed, right before you both went into a fit of giggles. John glared at you, but Herc calmed himself down enough to ask him a question.

“Hey John, do you guys have Tobasco here?”

Still with a bitter face, John pointed up to a cabinet, to which Herc eagerly grabbed the Tobasco from. “A little Tobasco makes every scrambled egg better,” he explained to you pointedly and you laughed.

The alarm on the stove went off for your rolls and you took them out, just as everyone else's food was finishing up. You added the icing and set them on the table as Hugh set out places for everyone. Then everyone else followed suit with their food. The six of you sat around and surveyed the food, considering what would be the worst to choke down. Everyone figured the hash browns and shrugged. You would have to eat them anyways. All food must be finished at brunch.

Everyone grabbed their helping of everything as the back door opened and closed.

“I’m here!” you heard Alexander’s voice come from the back room. You all groaned.

Laf glared at Alex as he walked in. “You’re late, as usual. So you’re on dishes with Angelica,” he ordered.

Alex rolled his eyes. “I figured. But you guys are at least glad I’m here, right?” he asked with a smirk. All of you rolled your eyes as he sat down and began scooping up the food.

Your eyes all met and then nodded. It was time.

Laf was the first to complain.

“I knew these hash browns would be bad, but what the hell, Laurens?” Laf asked, glaring at John as he coughed. John looked innocently up at him. Laf pointed angrily down at the potatoes on his plate. “All I can taste is oil and salt.”

John shrugged. “I tried to balance out the oil taste with a lot of salt.” Everyone groaned at the thought of having to eat the hash browns in the near future.

You took a bite of Herc’s scrambled eggs, and coughed. “Herc, when you say ‘a little Tobasco’, how much are you talking?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “The bottle isn’t that big. I just poured it all in.”

Angelica sighed looking at the scrambled eggs she was about to put in her mouth. She then scraped the eggs off, deciding to deal with them later, and instead focused on the waffles.

She stuck her fork in them, and look up exasperatedly at Lafayette. “Why is this waffle rock hard?”

Laf held up his hands in defense. “Why is everyone attacking me and my waffles? Focus on John and his oil salt.”

You observed everyone and faked a superior tone. “Well, well, well, my cinnamon rolls seem to be the highlight of this breakfast,” you commented smugly, and everyone glared at you as you laughed.

Everyone was silent for a moment, and Herc to your side began laughing slightly. You looked at him concerned and he pointed down at the cinnamon roll he just cut into on his plate.

It was basically just melted dough.

You sighed as everyone began laughing. You would never hear the end of this, but you smirked. Another Sunday, another brunch with completely inedible food.

But you all kept eating and complaining and defending yourselves throughout the meal. And when all the food was gone, you all agreed it was the worst brunch yet, and you couldn’t wait to see what happened next week.

As Alexander began starting on dishes, Angelica walked up to you. You shook your head and pointed at the kitchen. “Nope, you’re not getting out of dishes again Angelica. Go,” you commanded. She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going. I just came over to ask if you could bring Herc home. We carpooled, but I have a headache,” she asked solemnly. Herc’s house was slightly out of the way for you, but you acquiesced, narrowing your eyes slightly at Angelica who feigned innocence.

When dishes were over, Hugh made his way over to you. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he hugged you quickly. You stopped him and furrowed your eyebrows.

“Hugh, you’re going home with me. Angelica’s not feeling well and is going straight home,” you explained. Hugh gave an uncomfortable glance between you and Angelica who was behind you.

“Uh, well,” he struggled to find the words. “She didn’t mention that, so, um… Bye!” Before you could process what was happening, Angelica and Hugh bolted out the door. You stood in disbelief. You’d been played.

Awkwardly, you turned back around and faced Herc, who also had a faint blush on his cheeks. You sighed.

“Guess it’s just us then,” you stated, trying to break the tension. Herc shot you a soft smile, and you both made your way out the door to your car.

The car ride was a strange mixture of feeling content, and feeling slightly on edge. You both tried to keep a casual conversation going, but you both noticed the elephant in the car: you both knew why you were in here. Herc was supposed to ask you out.

But you knew it wouldn’t happen. Even though the two of you knew that you mutually liked each other, Herc just wasn’t prepared to ask you out yet. And honestly, you weren’t prepared for him to ask you out either. You were willing to be patient. Your friends were not. As you drove, Hercules mentioned the movie him, Angelica, and John were planning on seeing that night. Not even thinking of the implications of it, you offhandedly mentioned wanting to see the movie.

Hercules became very quiet and you silently cursed yourself. Eventually however, he responded.

“I mean, you could come with us,” he offered uncomfortably. Your heart tightened.

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to force him into offering if he really didn’t want to take you.

“Yeah,” he stated in a slightly higher voice. “I’ll- I’ll pick you up tonight, since you’re driving me home now. I mean, only if you want me to,” he offered, and your palms began becoming sweaty. You took a deep breath.

“Yeah, sure,” you answered, the words sticking in your throat. He gave you a tight smile as you pulled into his driveway and exited the car, to which you returned with your forced smile of your own.

On the drive back to your house, Angelica called you.

“So?” she asked excitedly. “Did he take his chance?” You rolled your eyes.

“I honestly hate you right now, Ang,” you commented, to which she responded with a laugh. “No, he did not ask me out.”

“What the hell?” she screeched from the other end of the phone. “Nothing? I set him up for it and he doesn’t take it?”

You gritted your teeth. “Ang, he doesn’t need set up. And besides me inviting myself along to your movie tonight and him offering to pick me up, nothing happened.”

Angelica paused. “He invited you to the movie tonight?”

“Were you not listening? I invited myself. Don’t make this into what it’s not... Ang? Angelica?” You glanced down at your phone. Lost call. You sighed as you pulled into your driveway.

You spent the rest on the day aimlessly wandering your house. Your parents had a fundraising benefit they would be out for all day, which left you and your sister alone for the afternoon. Just from passing by her room the few times you had made your way down that end of the house, you could tell she was re-binging The Last Airbender and wouldn’t be out of her room for awhile.

And that left you alone with your thoughts.

Why had you been so dumb and made Herc so uncomfortable by forcing his hand in inviting you to the movie? It wasn’t like you two hadn’t gone to the movies with other people before, but it was always a mutual decision. Herc never had to invite you. And you never had to think of the larger implications of it. This was exactly why the two of you weren’t ready to date. Neither of you knew how to handle this.

You sighed and slumped down at the kitchen table. Glumly, you checked the time and noticed it was getting close to the time Hercules would pick you up. Time to get ready you supposed.

As you ran to your room, you stopped outside your sister’s door. “Shan, free for all for dinner, okay?” You heard a mumbled “whatever” and an intense explosion come from her laptop. A smirk crossed your face as you walked away.

You quickly changed into comfy jeans and a simple sweater, knowing even though it was warm outside, it would be cool enough to house rescued penguins in the theater. Absentmindedly, you ate the sandwich you made at your dinner table and watched out the front window for headlights. As you were finishing, they pulled into the driveway and your heart gave a little extra ‘thump’.

Grabbing your purse, you yelled, “I’m going out, Shan! Be back later!”

To which you received a “Katara no!” and you counted it as an “Okay!”

The first thing that hit you when you opened the passenger side door was the smell of Hercules’ cologne. It was familiar and comforting. You felt your stomach calm and your body relax. It was just Herc. It was just a movie with friends. It was nothing to be anxious about.

Herc started in on a story about Hugh trying to finally get their stuck basketball down from the ceiling. (The story of how it got there so infamous among the friend group, they’ve often argued it should never get rescued, but remain intact for monument purposes.) You giggled at the conclusion of the story of Hugh’s once again failed attempt and countered the story with how Shannon stayed in her room all day binge watching The Last Airbender. To which Hercules half-joked about turning around and joining her.

When you noticed you were getting close to the theater, you announced you were going to call Angelica to see where her and John wanted to meet you. Herc nodded in a agreement, and you quickly pulled out the phone and dialed the last person who had called you.

“Hey Ang, we’re almost here. Wanna meet in the lobby?” you asked, as soon as she picked up.

There was a slight pause, and you grew suspicious. “Uh, Y/N, I’m so sorry, but something came up, and John and I can’t make it anymore.” You slowly felt heat creep into your cheeks as you realized what she was doing.

“Angelica,” you growled warningly, but it didn’t deter her a bit.

“I’m so sorry. I wish we could get out of it, but we can’t. Let us know how the movie is!” she said as she made her move to hang up. You sat stunned as you heard a little rustling.

“Um, hey, Y/N?” John voice came over the phone. “I really wanted to see this movie, but Angelica’s holding me captive right now, so you and Herc better not make this all in vain.”

Angelica and you both screeched “John!” at the same time as he chuckled and hung up. Herc looked over at your exasperated look with one eyebrow raised and an amused expression. You tried to shoot him a little smile but dreaded saying the words that were about to come from your mouth.

“Uh, they, uh,” you stuttered, and his eyes met yours concerned. “They ditched us,” you finally admitted, averting your eyes and hoping the dark night would cover a little bit of the blush on your face as your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sweater.

Herc parked outside the theater and remained silent for a few moments. “Well,” he finally started slowly. “We’re here. Might as well see the movie,” he offered, with an unsure expression on his face as you peeked up at him.

With a sigh, you offered him a comforting smile. “Yeah, might as well,” you repeated lamely. Herc made his way out of the car and you used the time his back was turned to you to curse your friends. You were not going to be tricked into your first date with Hercules, the assholes.

After steadying your breathing, you exited the car and met Hercules at the back end of it. The two of you tried to keep light expressions as you made your way into the theater. But with every step, your heart pounded a little louder. Why couldn’t Angelica just have let this be a nice casual night out with friends?

As you approached the ticket window, you swiftly stepped ahead of Hercules and requested a ticket to avoid any potentially awkward scenarios in which the man at the window assumed Hercules was also buying your ticket. If you both bought your own tickets, it definitely was less of a date, you reasoned with yourself.

The threshold of the theater greeted you with a blast of unnecessarily cold air, and you let out an involuntary shiver. All of your senses gravitated you towards the heat source walking right behind you; nevertheless, you set your head straight and walked down the aisle. Stopping at a row about halfway down the theater, you glanced up at Hercules who gave you a wordless approval at your row of choice. Quietly, you plopped down in the seat and remain stoic as Hercules took his seat beside you.

Eventually, Hercules started up small talk about brunch earlier that morning and compared it to the group’s other food fiascos. And like always, it was so easy to talk to Herc that you slowly melted back into comfort with the conversation, glad neither of you were making this weird as it obviously was supposed to be.

Or maybe it was weird and you were in severe denial.

Either way, you enjoyed spending time with Herc, even though you didn’t know what you wanted this to be classified. Not a date, per se. But you didn’t want it to be nothing either. Which left you in a bit of a dilemma you could ignore while talking lightheartedly with Herc. But when the movie started, you knew you were doomed to your thoughts.

You couldn’t focus on the movie. You couldn’t move. And you most definitely couldn’t stop being painfully aware of the person sitting next to you.

At one point in the movie, his hand accidentally brushed yours; you stiffened so visibly, it took all your willpower not to slap yourself right then and there. Hercules gave you a side glance you couldn’t read, but you stared straight ahead, intently focusing on the movie you no longer had an interest in while you cheeks blazed. You prayed you couldn’t see how much you were blushing. How much of an effect he had on you.

You almost let out a sigh of relief as the credits began rolling. You had made it. Hercules shot you a strained smile, and tried to nonchalantly ask what you thought of the movie. “It was good” was your response, and the subject was dropped as you made your way back out to his car.

The two of you remained silently most of the way home. Your eyes stared blankly out the window as you tried to think of anything to say. But you were never good at the small talk, or easing over an awkward situation. That was always Herc’s role. And even he couldn’t soothe this. 

When you neared your house, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You knew who it was before the message was even read.

“The movie’s over now right? So??” Angelica asked, and the tone of excitement got through the text. Unsure of how to respond, however, you ignored it.

“Hey I can see you read my text. What happened?”

You continued to stare out the window, blatantly ignoring the texts and just wishing to be out of the car. Because you didn’t know what you were feeling. You had thought you didn’t want this to be your date, but the way Herc was being so quiet scared you.

Maybe he didn’t want this to be a date because he never wanted anything to be a date between the two of you.

Your heart squeeze painfully at the thought as your phone buzzed, notifying of yet another text of Angelica’s.

“Y/N, please stop ignoring me. Just tell me what happened.”

You gritted your teeth as you read the words. Then with a deep breath as Herc turned into your driveway, you typed a response.

“Nothing.”

A typing bubble popped up immediately, but you shut your phone off, feeling a bit of pressure build up behind your eyes. You couldn’t do this right now. Your phone buzzed and you didn’t even bother to look down at it.

Though parked in your driveway, you remained in Herc’s car still for a moment. Then you took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “Thank you,” you mumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

As your hand reached for the door handle, Herc announced a quick “Hey!” and you turned back confused. With eyebrows furrowed, you inquired what he wanted.

“I- um- I…” He trailed off and let out a large gust of air. “Nevermind,” he finally concluded lamely. You bit your lip and grimaced, turning to make your way out of the car.”

“Wait, okay. I can- um-” He cringed as he tried the form the words, and then his eyes met yours; he sighed. “Do you want to get dinner this Friday?”

You felt frozen. Not a muscle in your body moved as you tried to comprehend the words.

You bit your lip and looked up at him unsurely. “With everyone else?” you squeaked.

He let out a small chuckle. “No. Just the two of us. Like a date. I’m- I’m asking you on a date, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you responded lamely, still trying to process his words. A date. He actually asked you out on a date. And you realized your insides were getting warm and a smile was crossing your face. A date. You’d like that. “I’d like that,” you finally responded sincerely, and he gave you a relieved smile.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as your eyes met his, and in that moment, everything suddenly felt right. It wasn’t awkward or unknown anymore. Your Hercules was right here. And you were going on a date with him.

He leaned toward you, and you almost met him in the middle, but you pulled back as his lips ghosted yours. His hurt expression wounded you a bit, but you explained shakily.

“If we kiss now, that’ll make this our first date, and this can’t be our first date, because we were dumb the whole night,” you detailed self-consciously. It sounded stupider out loud than it did in your head.

But he just smirked. “I wouldn’t want our first date to be any other way. Makes for a good story someday,” he commented, as he leaned forward closing the distance between the two of you.

As his lips softly pressed yours, you felt lighter than you ever had before. Your hands clung desperately to his shirt as his pulled away; your demeanor was now slightly intoxicated as you beamed shyly at Hercules, unsure if that just really happened. Mumbling your hand searching blindly for the door handle behind you, and you stumbled out of his car with a soft “Goodbye, Herc”.

You turned to walk to you front door, finally paying attention to the wildly buzzing phone in your hand. Without even reading the messages Angelica sent you, you quickly typed one in response.

“We have a dinner date set for Friday.”

It took mere seconds for a response. 

“WHAT.”

“And we kissed.”

“YOU CALL THAT NOTHING?” she responded a few seconds later, and you giggled as you saw her name pop up as an incoming call.

As you hit accept and opened up the front door to your house, you smirked, thinking it definitely wasn’t nothing.

Apparently, nothing was nothing with Hercules. And you couldn’t be happier.


	18. Thomas: The Night We Fell in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Thomas x Male Reader?
> 
> Thomas Jefferson x Male Reader

Thomas tried to ask you out for a week before he gave up.

If you could call it giving up.

“Y/N, wait! I’m not asking for anything romantic at all. You’re clearly not interested, but my friends and I are going to this amazing jazz band tonight that you would love,” he talked rapidly as he threw his body in front of your to block you from walking out of the doorway. His eyes were wild, but his grin remained mischievous.

You studied Thomas. He was admittedly attractive, but he also wasn’t any different than the boys you had dated or hooked up with before. His smile would make anyone weak in the knees; his mind was probably keeping a mental checklist entitled “Pants I Want to Get In”. The connection with him would be breathtaking for a very limited amount of time, and the fallout from the relationship would never quite be healed. And beyond all of that, Thomas was also just kind of an asshole.

You had sworn off these boys so violently, just being within a foot of Thomas repulsed you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you contemplated Thomas’ offer. You had heard of the band, and actually was planning on making a point to go. Though Thomas had never been a part of that plan.

Gritting your teeth and suppressing a groan, you finally replied, “Maybe I’ll see you there.” Thomas’ face lit up, and you rolled your eyes pushing past him.

As you walked out the door, you heard his voice call out after you, “Don’t worry! I won’t do anything to make you fall in love with me tonight.”

Your face immediately flushed with heat, but you convinced yourself it was just anger. He was lucky you didn’t rescind decision right then and there. Instead you just walked faster and more determined towards your dorm.

When you returned to your dorm room, you heatedly relayed Thomas’ latest offer to your roommate. Alex gave a disappointed frown when he heard you were going to the band despite hating Thomas.

“I like the band anyway,” you defended yourself. But Alex just shrugged his shoulders from his bed.

“I just think you should avoid this Thomas dude altogether. He sounds like trouble and an ass.” Though you couldn’t disagree with Alex’s logic, you couldn’t seem to convince yourself not to go to the concert. Besides, you told yourself, if anything did happen tonight, what was one night with Thomas that you didn’t already endure with other guys? Not everyone could be as lucky as Alex and have a John.

As you went to leave the room later that night for the concert, Alex suddenly sat up from reading his book laying on his bed. “Hey, Y/N?” You turned around quizzically and met Alex’s eyes. “Don’t fall in love tonight.”

You scoffed at the proposition. “Alex, that is the last thing that’s going to happen to me tonight.”

But you were wrong.

When you arrived at the venue, you were quickly able to seek out Thomas and his friends. Introductions were made to Angelica, Abigail, George, and James. Thomas explained Abigail’s boyfriend John couldn’t make it, and you smiled at them all, hoping your smile didn’t look too forced.

Your group took up a whole table in the small club, and you got seated between James and--of course--Thomas. But the evening wasn’t near as hateful as you expected it to be. You almost effortlessly assimilated into their group of friends, and eventually you were able to relax so much you could hold a light conversation with Thomas… or maybe it was the alcohol that allowed you to do that.

Either way, you actually managed to enjoy yourself. And the band was definitely worth any torture Thomas could have put you through during the night. Though the alcohol was definitely beginning to have more of an effect on you, you noticed after you had a light banter with Thomas about the best musicians out there and both of your gazes lingered a little too long on each other. You must have been imagining the look in his eyes, however, for when you shook the moment off and looked back at him, he seemed completely unperturbed in a conversation with George.

At one point in the night, Thomas left to get another round, and Angelica and Abigail went to the bathroom. You sat silently and contemplatively, listening to the slow song that was currently playing. George across the table hummed softly along, when a voice began speaking beside you.

“So Thomas couldn’t get you either then, I take it?” James asked, with a sloppy grin on his face. The question caught you off-guard, but you quickly recovered with a small chuckle.

“Oh he tried,” you stated rolling your eyes. “You?”

With a smirk, James gave a little laugh. “Oh yes, he tried.” He looked at you like he was considering something, but then nodded at something out past your shoulder. You turned around and saw Thomas with hands filled with beer stopped halfway back to the table by a girl, and by the look in Thomas’ eyes, no one at the table was getting any more alcohol any time soon. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore,” James commented lightly, “He’s moved on.”

With a mischievous grin to mask the sour feeling in your stomach, you turned back to James and noted, “I would, however, like him to come back to me long enough to get my beer.” A brilliant grin broke out on James’ face, and it unexpectedly made your insides warm and eased whatever was troubling you earlier.

Your conversation with James continued long into the night, and you found you both were essentially the same person. And it was just so infectious to meet someone you just automatically clicked with. You learned James didn’t actually go to your school, but one across the city. He made a point though to journey to this side for “good friends and company”, he worded it.

At the end of the night when you were you were all getting up to leave, Angelica snuck behind you and James and whispered “Get a room”. A blush immediately warmed your face, but not unpleasantly; James chuckled and put his arm around you as he stood up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Thomas staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite pin.

No, you were sure you were just imagining it, for when your eyes met Thomas’, he held a light expression on his face, and began teasing you. “I told you, you would like this band,” he boasted with a wink, then quickly turned without another word and left the club.

You ignored the small pang in your stomach and focused instead on the amazing guy you just discovered: James. With a grin, you both exited the club with arms wrapped around each other.

It only took James three days after that to ask you out.

And now only three years later, you both were still happily together in a serious relationship; quite the opposite of your best friend Thomas, who was soon going to run out of people to bring home from the club, you were convinced.

“You know the deal,” Thomas said to you seriously as you laid sprawled out on the couch. “James gets you two nights a weekend; I get you one. We’re going to the club.” You groaned. You wished your boyfriend and best friend weren’t also good friends that could trade away your time. Though it did make things run pretty smoothly, you admitted to yourself regretfully.

“We never do anything but go to the club. I get drunk. You get drunk. You come home with the boy or girl of your choosing. You get laid. I call James because I’m bored. And then in the morning I make your night buddy breakfast, and send them on their merry way,” you complained, reciting exactly what happened every Saturday night. Thomas laughed, unable to deny the truth of it. He roughly sat down on top of you, and you shot him a glare.

“Well, that’s your own fault,” he stated simply. You looked at him confused. “You don’t have to make them breakfast,” he shrugged. You playfully tried to shove him off of you, but he just forced himself down on you until your foreheads were touching.

His eyes were so close to your face that they blurred, but you could still see his blue eyes gazing into yours. Your stomach flipped. He pulled this shit on you all the time, and for someone who had a steady boyfriend and loved said steady boyfriend, it should not have this type of effect on you.

But it did. It always did.

Reacting as you always did, however, you rolled off the couch pinning him under you. His breath caught from the fall, and he smirked. You felt his hands grab your waist, and you bit your cheek as you rolled your eyes. A neutral expression fought to keep its place on your face, as you were acutely aware Thomas was aware of you hardening on his hips. But as this wasn’t the first time either of you found yourselves in this situation, Thomas let out a brash chuckle. Keep it playful, you reminded yourself.

“Imagine if James walked in on us like this,” he teased you innocently. With a smirk, you leaned down until your lips were a fatal distance apart.

“He wouldn’t bat an eye, because he knows how much of a whore you are,” you responded with a gleam in your eye. With this, Thomas let out a loud laugh and let your hips go. You quickly jumped up and turned to walk towards your bedroom.

“A whore and proud,” Thomas proclaimed, still laughing. You gave out a little chuckle.

When you reached your bedroom door, you turned and made a face at Thomas. “Why did I ever agree to share an apartment with you?” you asked sarcastically, as well as contemplatively.

“They could make a show about us!” Thomas called after you as you shut your door, and you shook your head still laughing. “The Whore and the Prude! Only showing Saturday nights.” You laughed heartily at the joke and proceeded to change into clothes for the club when your phone started ringing.

You picked it up eagerly when you saw it was James. “Save me, we’re going to the club again,” you half joked with him, immediately as you answered the phone. There was a long pause.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been contemplating this for awhile…”

You don’t know how much time passed before Thomas knocked on your door.

“Dude, seriously, if we don’t leave soon, I’m not going to get-” He cut off as soon as he saw you curled up on the floor staring at your phone. He stood in the doorway waiting for you to say anything. Slowly, you let your eyes meet his.

“James, um… James just, uh… He.” You closed your eyes and sighed, and then reopened them to find Thomas’ worried face. “He just broke up with me,” you finally admitted, immediately averting your eyes as soon as the words hit the air. The silence hung for several seconds before Thomas spoke.

“He what?” You could feel his eyes on you, looking for you to contradict what you had just said, but you kept your eyes trained downward. Thomas’ eyes moved to the phone. “He broke up with you over the phone?” When you didn’t respond, he became indignant. “That utter bastard, I’m going to-”

“Don’t,” you said quietly. Thomas stopped and looked at you, pain in his eyes. “You’ll only make it worse.” It had been almost fifteen minutes now, and still not a single tear had fallen from your eyes. You felt numb. “Can I-” You stopped and swallowed quickly before continuing. “Can I get a raincheck on the club?” You looked up and met his eyes once again.

He looked at you with such empathy, it made you want to look away again, but you held his blue eyes with yours. “Of course,” he said simply. “I’ll stay home with you, so-”

“No,” you said a bit too harshly. Thomas looked taken aback, and you didn’t have the strength in you to look at him anymore. “I just need to be alone right now.” I just need to not be with you right now.

He stayed silent for a moment, then finally said, “Okay. Call me if you need anything.” You nodded mutely and listened as he slowly backed his way out of the room and eventually left the apartment.

You curled up once again, pushing your head into your knees. James’ words rattled around in your brain.

“I think we both know who you fell in love with that night.”

“I don’t hold it against you.”

“You two act more like a couple anyways.”

You had loved him. You knew you had. You wanted to marry him. You were going to pick out a ring. You were going to live out the rest of your lives together.

You paused. Weren’t you supposed to cry when someone you loved broke up with you? You shook the thought from your head. James was delusional. There wasn’t any way Thomas-

Thomas.

You had tried so hard not to think his name. But as soon as you did, your thoughts became overflowed.

Waking up to early morning violin practice, and coming out of your room groggily to a chipper Thomas. Having to cook almost every meal, because if Thomas cooked, you knew it’d be mac and cheese. Thomas complaining you didn’t eat enough mac and cheese. Having to put a blanket around his shoulders after he passed out while studying. Seeing Thomas walk around the apartment unperturbed after a shower with just a towel around his waist. His endless taunts and horseplay. Making breakfast for his overnight guests, but being the one who gets to stay with him when breakfast is over.

Of course you were in love with Thomas, you admitted to yourself for the first and only time. And only then did you allow yourself to cry. James was right.

After you allowed yourself to grieve over the fact you stayed with an amazing man for three years so you wouldn’t have to address your feelings for the annoying, arrogant man who would probably never settle down with anyone, you slowly moved yourself to the couch and put on a movie. Anything to ignore reality. You were half asleep when the door to the apartment opened and closed.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew it was too early for Thomas to have brought anyone home. You sat up groggy and confused. And there was Thomas. Just staring at you helplessly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Thomas? What are you doing back so early?” you whispered for no reason.

He too, responded in a hushed voice. “It just didn’t feel right to leave you like this.”

His answer caught you off-guard, and you pondered it for a moment. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Thomas,” you responded, straining to keep the tears from exploiting themselves. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine.”

His face looked pained. “No, I,” he grimaced and closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m telling you I couldn’t bring someone back here while you’re here like this.”

You stared at him confused. Finally, you replied in the same tone, “And I’m telling you not to worry about me.”

He threw his hands up, and let out an exasperated sigh. You looked at him with wide eyes as he began pacing the living room, trying to figure out what was going on. When he finally calmed himself down, he stopped and looked at you with those wild blue eyes.

“When I say ‘leave you like this’,” he struggled to explain, “I don’t mean ‘leave you while you’re upset’.” He gave you a pointed look, but you still had no idea what he was talking about. He hung his head and buried it in a hand, and then he looked up at you and tried again. “I mean ‘leave you while you’re single’.”

You stared at him for a while, noting he was visibly cringing waiting for a reply. But you still didn’t quite understand.

“ ‘Leave you while you’re single’? Thomas… Just because I’m single doesn’t mean you can’t hook up with people. I’m seriously, fi-”

A loud, annoyed grunt escaped Thomas’ mouth, along with a “God damn it, Y/N.” You looked at him confused, but before you could read his face, he lunged at you.

It took your senses a few moments to catch up with what was happening. His warm, soft lips--which you had teased many times before--pressed hungrily into yours. His fingers greedily ran through your hair. You moaned softly as you felt him straddling your hips. You felt your hands slip under his shirt to graze his warm skin.

Suddenly, he quickly broke your embrace and stared at you with disbelief glittering in his pale blue eyes.

“Shit,” Thomas muttered, quickly backing off of you and stumbling on the coffee table in the process. “I’m a horrible friend. _Shit_. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- I-” He cut off, his wide eyes pleading with yours. You stared at Thomas, stunned, trying to find the right words to say.

Because you had so much to say, but you mind was completely clogged by that kiss.

Thomas, observing your state of panic, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned from you. “Shit!” he said, out loud this time, visibly cringing as he said it.

You both stayed frozen for a long while. Eventually, you broke the silence. “Thomas?” you asked quietly. His body stiffened at the sound of your voice. “I- Am I going to have to make breakfast for myself tomorrow morning?”

Thomas slowly turned and met your eyes, questioning whether he heard you right. You let your eyes hold his steadily, allowing them to confirm his thoughts.

“You’re going to have to make yourself breakfast a lot of mornings,” he commented slowly.

Laughing, you stood and embrace Thomas, running your fingers through his thick, curly, dark hair and pulling him back down on top of you.

This was an arrangement you could stand behind.


End file.
